TODAY'S  SHORT  STORIES 
ANALYZED 


AN    INFOKMAL    ENCYCLOPEDIA    OF    SHORT 
STORY   ART   AS   EXEMPLIFIED    IN   CON- 
TEMPORARY MAGAZINE  FICTION— 
FOR  WRITERS  AND  STUDENTS 


BY 
ROBERT  WILSON  NEAL,  A.M. 

Author  of  "  Short  Stories  in  the  Making,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 
OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

AMERICAN  BRANCH:  S5  West  32nd  Strekt 
LONDON.  TORONTO,  MELBOURNE,  AND  BOMBAY 

1918 


COPYRIGHT  1918 

BT   THE 

OXFORD  UNIVEKSITY  PRESS 
American  Branch 


TO  MY  SON 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The  publishers  and  the  author  of  Today's  Short  Stories 
Analyzed  are  indebted  to  the  writers  whose  stories  are 
here  reprinted,  and  to  the  editors  and  publishers  of  the 
periodicals  represented,  for  special  permission  to  repro- 
duce the  stories,  and  for  other  courteous  and  cordial 
co-operation. 

CONCERNING  COPYRIGHTS 

The  stories  in  this  volume  are  reprinted  by  special  per- 
mission. Their  authors  and  publishers  reserve  all  rights 
in  and  to  them  under  their  respective  copyrights,  other 
than  that  of  reprinting  in  this  volume;  and  all  rights 
under  the  copyright  of  this  volume  are  similarly  reserved. 


CONTENTS 

PASE 

Introductory  Notes 1 

What  the  Vandals  Leave,     By  Herbert  Riley 

Howe.     (From  "Life") 3 

Introductory  Notes 4 

The  Song.  By  C.  Hilton-Turvey.  (From  "Life")  7 


Introductory  Notes 

3.  Anchors  Aweigh.    By  Harriet  Welles.     (From 

"Scribner's  Magazine")  .*     . 

Introductory  Notes 

4.  Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence.     By  Anne 

O'Hagan.     (From  "Smith's  Magazine") 


Introductory  Notes 

In  the  Matter  of  Distance.    By  John  Barton 
Oxford.     (From  "Red  Book  Magazine") 


10 
12 
17 
21 
43 
45 
64 


Introductory  Notes 

6.  A  Ragtime  Lady.    By  Eugene  Manlove  Rhodes 

and  Laurence  Yates.     (From  "The  Satur- 
day Evening  Post") 67 

Introductory  Notes 99 

7.  The  Unknown.     By  Albert  Payson   Terhune. 

(From  "Red  Book  Magazine")      .       .        .102 

Introductory  Notes 132 

8.  The   Love   of   Men.     By   Nevil   G.    Henshaw. 

(From   "Adventure") 136 

Introductory  Notes 158 

9.  Nerve.    By  William  Slavins.     (From  "Collier's 

Weekly") 16.0 

vii 


viii  Contents 

PAOS 

Introductory  Notes 183 

10.  A  QriKT  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet.    By  Her- 

bert C.  Test.     (From  "Collier's  Weekly")     187 

Introductory  Notes 219 

11.  Little  Sunbeam,    By  George  Pattullo.     (From 

"Every   Week"    and   "Associated    Sunday 
Magazines") 221 

Introductory  Notes 247 

12.  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer.    By  Rupert  Hughes. 

(From  "The  Metropolitan  Magazine";  book 

by  Harper  and  Brothers)        ....     251 

Introdi^ctory  Notes 289 

13.  His   Bubble   Reputation.     By   Capt.    Brydges 

Rodney,  -U.  S.  A.     (From  "Adventure")    .     291 

Introductory  Notes 318 

14.  An  Epilogue.    By  Gertrude  Hall.     (From  "The 

Century  Magazine") 324 

Introductory  Notes 379 

15.  The   Defective.     By   Freeman    Tilden    (From 

"The  Smart  Set") 381 

Introductory  Notes 407 

16.  That  Hahxheimer  Story.     By  Arthur  James 

Peglcr.     (From  "Adventure")      .        .        .409 

Introductory  Notes 429 

17.  The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers.     By  Wilbur 

Daniel    Steele.      (From    "Harper's    Maga- 
zine")   434 

Introductory  Notes 465 

18.  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle.     By  Molly  Elliott 

Seawell.     (From  "Ainslee's  Magazine")     .     471 

Introductory  Notes 507 

19.  The  Opal  Morning.    By  Ethel  Watts  Mumford. 

(From  "McClure's  Magazine")     .       .        .510 


Contents  ix 

PAQB 

Introductory  Notes 536 

20.  The    Great    God.      By    Mary    Heaton    Vorse. 

(From  "The  Woman's  Home  Companion")     540 

Introductory  Notes 561 

21.  Tropics.     By  Patrick  Casey.     (From  "  Adven- 

ture")   565 

Introductory  Notes 614 

22.  Unto  Each  His  Crown.    By  Norma  Patterson. 

(From  "The  Bookman")       .       .       .       .615 


FOREWORD 

Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  is  a  companion  volume 
to  Short  Stories  in  the  Making.  It  can,  however,  be 
profitably  studied  without  the  latter,  but  not  so  profitably 
as  when  accompanied  by  it.  Together,  the  books  provide 
a  summary  of  the  essential  theory  of  the  short  story  as  a 
type  of  fiction,  and  a  body  of  illustrative  matter,  care- 
fully analyzed,  wherein  the  student  will  find  a  plenitude 
of  instances  of  the  specific  adaptation  and  application  of 
the  theory  to  productive  purposes  by  writers  of  the  day. 

Each  of  the  books  has  primarily  in  mind,  without  sacri- 
ficing its  usefulness  as  a  handbook  for  the  non-professional 
literary  student,  nevertheless  especially  to  meet  the  inter- 
ests and  serve  the  needs  of  the  practicing  writer  and  the 
student  who  is  preparing  himself  to  write  fiction,  and  ac- 
cordingly each  makes  a  professional  approach  to  the  sub- 
ject in  its  entirety,  and  to  the  individual  problems  that  it 
includes.  The  volumes  are,  in  short,  practical  handbooks 
for  writers,  but  of  a  sort  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the 
serious  non-professional  student  also.  This  treatment 
from  the  angle  of  practical  management  and  construction 
probably  accounts  for  the  initial  welcome  given  Short 
Stories  in  the  Making  and  the  steady  sale  of  that 
treatise. 

As  the  book  just  named  has  found  acceptance  among 
those  depended  on  in  college  courses  in  short-story  writ- 
ing, it  will  perhaps  be  well  to  emphasize  the  fact  that 
Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  is  something  more  than 

xi 


xii  Foreword 

a  iiiore  book  of  specimens,  addendum,  or  supplementary 
volume.  It  is  in  the  fullest  sense  a  compamon  volume, 
introducing  new  aspects  and  problems,  and  in  many 
things  widening  the  scope  of  discussion  and  varying  its 
point  of  view.  In  but  one  thing  is  it  subordinate  to  the 
other  volume;  namely,  in  referring  to  it  for  the  basic 
discussion  of  general  theory  whereof  applications  are 
under  consideration  in  the  second  volume.  Yet  even  so 
the  reference  is  usually  made  for  the  sake  of  extending 
and  generalizing  the  understanding  of  the  subject  that 
the  student  gets  from  the  specific  instance  before  him  in 
the  story.  How  far  he  will  go  in  following  up  these  ref- 
erences in  the  other  volume  is  a  matter  that  he  will  deter- 
mine for  himself;  he  can  pass  over  most  of  them  and  yet 
get  at  least  the  immediate  point  of  the  analysis,  or  he 
can  turn  to  the  treatise  whenever  he  meets  such  a  ref- 
erence, and  so  acquire  an  intimate  and  masterly  knowl- 
edge of  the  theory  in  its  entirety  of  fundamentals. 

The  arrangement  of  the  notes  in  Today's  Short  Stones 
Analyzed  is  such  as  readily  to  permit  the  study  of  the 
volume  according  to  individual  as  well  as  to  class-room 
requirements,  and  with  varying  degrees  of  intensive  pur- 
pose. The  story  can  be  read  in  connection  merely  with 
the  notes  under  the  heading  "  The  Story  as  a  Whole," 
which  will  provide  sufficient  comment  for  a  general  appre- 
ciation of  it  as  a  literary  specimen  and  in  its  most  notable 
aspects  as  a  specimen  of  short-story  management  and 
technique.  Thus  the  general  reader  or  student  will  be 
able  to  possess  himself  readily  of  those  critical  literary  or 
structural  facts  of  which  he  is  in  search.  In  this  way 
also  the  college  class  with  but  a  limited  time  to  spend  can 
achieve  the  general  survey  that  is  its  object. 


Foreword  xiii 

If  a  more  intensive  study  of  structure,  or  characteriza- 
tion, or  plot,  or  atmosphere,  or  theme  be  desired,  the 
reader  or  the  instructor  has  but  to  select  from  the  running 
notes  those  passages  in  which  the  matter  he  especially 
wishes  to  study  is  discussed.  And  if  he  desire  to  pass 
over  no  hint  or  explanation,  he  can  take  both  the  intro- 
ductory and  the  running  notes  entire.  With  the  employ- 
ment of  the  same  selective  method  in  the  choice  and  rejec- 
tion of  stories  for  study,  the  volume  adapts  itself  with 
extreme  flexibility  to  the  purposes  of  the  instructor  in  the 
class-room,  the  needs  of  the  general  literary  student, 
and  the  demands  of  writers  who  aim  at  the  most 
thorough  professional  grounding  in  technique  and  prac- 
tique. 

So  much  said  concerning  the  book  from  the  viewpoint 
of  utility  and  mechanical  arrangement,  something  addi- 
tional, a  sort  of  caveat  emptor,  may  be  in  place  concern- 
ing it  from  another  angle. 

I  remember  a  call  made  on  me  at  Amherst  by  Mr. 
Arthur  H.  Gleason,  in  memory  of  a  previous  association 
in  the  same  magazine  offices.  He  scanned  my  book-cases 
from  the  chair,  then  got  up  and  walked  back  and  forth 
past  them,  more  and  more  intent  on  the  titles.  Suddenly 
he  burst  out : 

"  What  a  remarkable  collection.  I  never  saw  such  a 
miscellaneous,  job-lot  accumulation." 

To  which,  reserving  comment,  I  made  what  response  I 
could. 

His  remark,  however,  caused  me  no  loss  of  faith  in  my 
books ;  through  my  acquaintance  with  them,  I  knew  how 
they  fell  into  clear  and  natural  divisions  and  represent  the 
definite  interests  and  directions  of  approach  through  which 


XIV 


Foreword 


1  t'onned  my  view  of  life.  For  me,  the  collection  lacked 
neither  unity  nor  coherence;  for  I  knew  what  was  beneath 
and  Ix^hind  it. 

About  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  I  can  imagine  a 
critic  of  set  preconceptions  making  a  comment  as  embar- 
rassing as  that  of  my  friend  about  my  books.  Which  is  as 
it  should  be,  for  he  must  measure  by  the  rule  that  he  owns, 
and  it  is  one  that,  employed  where  it  is  in  place,  gives 
accurate  results.  Yet  I  would  point  out  that  there  are 
measurements  and  computations  more  accurately  accom- 
plished with  a  slide-rule  than  with  a  knotted  string — that 
eggs  can  be  weighed  as  well  as  counted — that  land  sells 
by  the  acre  but  oil  of  peppermint  by  the  fluid  ounce.  He 
who  dislikes  the  analytical  plan  adopted  here,  or  has  com- 
plaint to  make  because  the  stories  have  not  been  chosen 
by  some  more  set  and  obvious  principle  nor  sorted  and 
classified  methodically  and  mechanically  as  he  would  sort 
and  classify  them,  need  not  linger  with  the  volume.  There 
are,  I  understand,  many  books  in  the  world. 

Let  us,  however,  grow  to  a  point. 

Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  is  not  an  anthology ;  it 
is  scarcely  a  collection.  It  did  not  set  out  to  be.  A\Tiat 
it  set  out  to  be,  and  what  it  is,  is  not  a  literary  anthology, 
not  a  collection  for  reading  in  order  to  the  forming  of  an 
estimate  concerning  the  qualities  and  characteristics,  the 
merits  and  lack  of  merit,  the  course  and  tendencies,  of 
contemporary  short  fiction.  That,  one  can  find  in  books 
of  the  aim  and  excellence  of  Mr.  Edward  O'Brien's  an- 
nual gatherings  in  The  Booh  of  the  Short  Story. 

Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  is  in  truth  not  a  read- 
ing volume  at  all.  Neither  is  it  primarily  an  attempt  at 
direct  criticism,  even  in  the  selection  of  its  stories.     It  is 


FOREWOED  XV 

only  a  volume  in  which  twenty-odd  narratives  from  con- 
temporary magazines  are  reprinted  for  the  sake  of  some- 
thing in  them  that  may  be  helpfully  suggestive  to  the  stu- 
dent of  short-story  technique.  It  is  a  study  manual,  and 
only  that. 

Its  stories  have  not  even  been  gathered  by  systematic 
search;  they  have  been  picked  up  along  the  way  by  an 
errant  reader  who  merely  was  keeping  his  eyes  open  for 
obvious  illustrations  of  fictional  ways,  means,  and  methods 
— illustrations  suitable  for  examination  by  persons  seek- 
ing an  intimate  and  detailed  acquaintance  with  the  many- 
purposed,  specific  applications  of  those  theories  and  prin- 
ciples of  technique  and  management  which  are  represented 
in  but  general — and  often  dogmatic — form  by  the  treatises 
on  the  art  of  story-writing. 

In  brief,  the  book  set  out  to  be  that  which  its  publishers, 
in  the  subtitle  they  have  given  it,  describe  it  as  being: 
"  an  informal  encyclopedia  of  short-story  art."  To  be 
that,  it  needed  less  to  bother  itself  with  the  pros  and  cons 
concerning  ultimate  worth  than  to  make  certain  of  direct 
utility  in  its  materials  as  obvious  illustrations  of  the  prac- 
tical application  of  method  to  the  problems  presented  by 
narrational  drama. 

Hence,  should  any  critic  concede  that  upon  analysis 
some  story  or  another  discloses  merits  and  excellence  not 
before  perceived  by  him,  I  should  respond  only  so  far  as 
to  ask  wherein  is  reason  for  sui'prise  at  that,  since  appre- 
ciation is  not  born  except  of  knowledge  ?  Further  than 
this,  the  discussion  would  be  irrelevant  and  unprofitable; 
the  sole  purpose  of  these  studies  is  to  observe  the  means 
employed  in  actual  practice  by  magazine  writers  of  the 
day  to  place  their  fiction  conceptions  before  the  reader 


xvi  Poke  WORD 

elTi'i'tivcly,  both  in  llu'  whulc  autl  in  the  parts  and  details 
that  make  up  the  wliuk'. 

After  the  forepiing  explanation,  I  need  not  give,  except 
to  tyros,  a  warning  against  fancying  that  an  adequate 
estimate  of  the  merits  of  an  individual  author  can  be 
based  on  any  such  tiny  amount  of  his  work  as  is  repre- 
sented by  a  single  story.  To  attempt  it  would  be  thor- 
oughly unjust.  By  itself,  neither  Esmond,  nor  Vanity 
Fair,  nor  TJic  Newcomcs,  represents  Thackeray;  we 
should  know  Dickens  but  fragnientarily  if  we  knew  him 
only  in  7\co  Cities,  or  Chuzzlewit,  or  Oliver  Twist,  and 
but  partly  even  in  the  three  of  them  together.  How  im- 
possible therefore  to  know  the  scope  and  quality  and 
variety  of  a  writer  from  some  single  conte,  chosen  arbi- 
trarily by  a  chance  analyst  who  wishes  to  deal,  not  with 
the  final  standards  of  art,  but  only  with  instances  of 
artisanry  and  technique,  and  with  these  for  but  a  didactic 
purpose. 

Yet  though  the  book  is  not  a  reading-volume,  and  though 
it  is  not  in  any  sense  an  undertaking  of  direct  literary 
or  esthetic  criticism,  nevertheless  there  is  significance  in 
the  title-phrase,  "  today's  short  stories."  Every  conte  re- 
printed in  the  volume  has  appeared  in  a  magazine  of  a 
date  comparatively  recent.  Each  story  has  therefore  suc- 
cessfully passed  the  scrutiny  of  an  editor  of  the  day,  and 
been  marked  with  the  sign  of  suitability  for  contemporary 
publication  in  the  magazine  he  edits.  Inadequate  as  must 
be  any  mere  score  of  stories  out  of  the  hundreds  appearing 
in  our  magazines  to  represent  w^ith  completeness  the  range 
and  character  of  short  fiction  for  a  single  twelvemonth — 
even  should  selection  aim  solely  at  the  presentation  of 
types — ^yet  on  the  other  hand  it  is  inevitable  that  such  a 


Foreword  xvii 

group  shall  broadly  suggest  what  classes  and  kinds  of 
story  find  favor  with  editors  and  readers  of  the  period. 
When  the  writer  of  short  stories  has  read  the  specimens 
brought  together  by  Mr.  O'Brien  in  The  Booh  of  the 
Short  Story,  he  finds  himself  possessed  of  a  clearer  and 
more  definite  realization  of  certain  subjects,  themes,  man- 
ners, and  presentation-methods  that  have  found  a  market 
and  a  public  when  incorporated  in  tales.  In  a  gathering 
which,  through  a  difference  in  purpose,  is,  like  Today's 
Short  Stories  Analyzed,  able  to  be  yet  more  catholic  and 
miscellaneous  in  its  selections,  the  indication  of  the  kinds 
and  character  of  story  that  people  market  and  read  today 
should  prove  correspondingly  broader  in  its  range  and 
utility. 

There  may  be  also,  I  fancy,  further  significance  tacit  in 
the  phrase  "  today's  stories."  I  have  said  that  the  contes 
reprinted  in  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  have  been 
picked  by  chance,  with  a  view  primarily  to  indicating  the 
way  in  which  their  writers  employ  and  adapt  the  basic 
principles  of  short-story  fiction  in  the  presentation,  the 
utterance  or  "  outering,"  of  their  narrative-dramatic  con- 
ceptions. That  is  true,  but  it  is  perhaps  not  quite  the 
whole  truth.  I  have  throughout  been  subconsciously 
guided  by  my  own  feeling  of  what  the  short  fiction  of 
our  day  is. 

I  have  the  further  feeling  that  this  subconscious  test 
has  worked  by  way  of  exclusion,  not  of  inclusion — that 
had  a  situation  definitely  arisen  in  which  a  choice  was 
necessary  between  a  conte  of  higher  absolute  literary 
quality  but  notwithstanding  its  excellence  more  repre- 
sentative of  the  characteristic  short  fiction  of  yesterday 
than  of  today,  and  on  the  other  hand  a  conte  less  worthy 


xviii  Foreword 

but  more  representative  of  current  short  fiction,  the  latter 
specimen  would  have  been  preferred. 

Ko  such  definite  situation  did  arise, — but  if  a  justifica- 
tion of  the  principle  of  choice  just  mentioned  seem  de- 
sirable, it  is  to  be  found  in  the  purpose  of  this  book; 
namely,  to  show  forth  the  applications  of  technique  made 
in  the  representative  short  fiction  appearing  in  magazines 
of  the  day.  There  are  plenty  of  collections  in  which  the 
work  of  past  generations  can  be  studied — studied  with 
extreme  profit — but  students  who  would  acquaint  them- 
selves with  the  practice  and  technique  of  today's  short 
stories  have  mainly  to  shift  for  themselves.  Good,  bad, 
and  indifferent,  our  periodical  fiction  is  read,  but  seldom 
studied.  Small  wonder  that  the  sweeping  condemnations 
of  it,  and  the  less  frequent  outbursts  in  its  praise,  may 
alike  prove  ill  founded.  Especially  unjust  and  ignorant 
are  those  judgments  which  measure  it  by  the  outward 
forms  and  methods,  not  of  its  own  day,  but  of  a  genera- 
tion already  past,  if  not  remotely  past.  That  its  spirit 
cannot  be  appraised  unless  its  forms  and  methods  be  ap- 
preciated, should  be  evident  to  the  most  casual 
student. 

But  to  argue  upon  either  side  the  assertion  that  the 
magazine  short  fiction  of  today  is  inferior  or  superior  to 
that  of  the  past — ^whether  in  its  outstanding  stories  or  in 
its  general  mass — is  aside  from  the  purpose  of  this  book. 
The  contes  of  the  day  are,  therefore  they  deserve  apprecia- 
tion ;  and  before  appreciation  must  come  study.  Never- 
theless I  must  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  quoting  an 
editor  whose  position  has  brought  him  acquaintance  not 
only  with  the  day's  short  stories  that  appear  in  print,  but 
with  those  also  that,  for  whatever  reason,  fail  in  the  lit- 


FORKWORD  xix 

erary  struggle  for  existence — Mr.  Robert  Rudd  Whiting 
of  "  Ainslee's  Magazine."     He  writes : 

"...  about  changes  in  the  technique  of  the  present- 
day  short  story.  Writers  who  send  us  work  regularly  and 
fail  to  meet  our  present  standards  were  contributors  a 
few  years  ago  to  the  best  magazines  in  this  country.  For 
a  time  I  took  it  for  granted  that  their  work  had  fallen 
off;  but  in  looking  back  in  old  files  of  those  magazines 
and  reading  their  work  of  that  day,  I  found  that  we  now 
demand  sharper,  crisper  work  than  we  did  then.  There 
really  is  a  change,  and  it  is  not  the  writers  who  have  gone 
back." 

In  an  informal  gathering  of  scientists  where  chance 
good  fortune  had  made  me  a  listener,  a  prominent  chemist 
remarked  that  any  man  who  failed  to  keep  himself  in- 
timately informed  in  the  current  "  submerged  literature  " 
of  his  subject — its  documents,  reports,  bulletins  and  arti- 
cles up  to  the  hour — was  a  back  number.  Unsupplemented 
with  knowledge  of  the  succeeding  researches  and  the  new 
methods  that  these  require,  the  authorities  of  five  years 
ago  are  doubtful,  those  of  ten  years  ago  unsafe  or  unsound. 
His  assertion  was  accepted  as  essentially  true. 

If  a  similar  assertion  concerning  short  fiction  cannot  be 
made  so  absolutely,  it  can  yet  be  made ;  and  as  it  is  today's 
chemistry,  and  not  yesterday's,  by  which  today  is  served 
and  tomorrow  prepared  for,  so  it  is  today's  short  stories, 
not  yesterday's,  that  today  reads  and  out  of  which  will  be 
developed  the  writers  and  the  short-story  literature  of 
tomorrow. 

For  this  reason,  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed  ends 
as  it  began — with  the  purpose  of  showing  forth  specific 
employments,  applications,  and  adaptations  of  the  art  of 


XX  Foreword 

the  c'onto,  but  of  sbowinc;  them  forth  in  stories  that  un- 
mistakablv  belong  to  the  magazine  short  fiction  of  the  day. 
However  well  or  ill  they  represent  it  in  its  entirety,  or 
whether,  except  indeed  as  they  are  of  its  mass,  they  rep- 
resent it  at  all,  is  an  irrelevant  matter.  The  material  fact 
is,  that  in  them  the  basic  theory  and  technique  of  the 
conte  can  be  found  exemplified,  and  that  they  are  clearly 
stories  of  today. 

TO  STUDENTS 

By  all  means  read  the  story  itself  attentively  and  ap- 
preciatively before  reading  any  of  the  notes.  Otherwise 
you  will  miss  the  quality  and  effect  of  the  story  itself — 
missing  w^hich,  you  must  miss  everything  else.     Leave  the 

notes  for  following  study. In  the  notes,  "  S.  S.  M." 

stands  for  Short  Stories  in  the  Making,  and  the  "  Introd. 
Notes "  are  the  notes  at  the  head  of  the  story  under 
"  The  Story  as  a  Whole." 


WHAT  THE  VANDALS  LEAVE 

The  Stoky  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  What  the  Vandals  Leave  "  lacks  the  length  and  am- 
plified volume  to  be  found  in  a  conte,  yet  lacks  only  these 
to  constitute  an  excellent  specimen  of  the  type.  Its 
effectiveness  is  manifest.  It  is  a  condensed  action-plot  or 
quasi-scenario  dramatically  narrated.  S.  S.  M.  9 :  3,  c.  e; 
75  :  7,  C,  D. 

2.  Though  in  its  brevity  (but  not  so  in  having  a  plot) 
it  is  an  incident,  it  otherwise  affords  a  compact  illustra- 
tion of  practically  all  the  characteristics  of  the  short 
story.  Here  we  find,  for  instance,  the  plot  elements  in 
full.  Par.  1  contains  the  exposition ;  par.  2,  the  generat- 
ing circumstance;  pars.  2-6,  the  rising  action;  pars.  6-7, 
the  climactic  height;  par.  7,  the  climactic  situation  and 
conclusive  ending.  See  S.  S.  M.  71-121  passim,  and 
specifically  74:6;  79:1;  85:1-3;  92:1-3;  94:5-13; 
115 : 1-4. 

3.  Here  also  we  find  clearly  exemplified  the  tendency 
of  the  conte  to  develop  solely  the  climactic  plot  situation, 
with  all  preliminary  matter  reduced  to  a  minimum. 
S.  S.  M.  15  :  1-5. 

4.  Likewise,  strength  and  singleness  of  impression  are 
manifest.    S.  S.  M.  19 : 1-3. 

5.  Further,  it  is  a  drama  in  narrative.  S.  S.  M. 
10 : 1-7. 

6.  Though  reduced  to  their  lowest  terms,  theme,  action, 

1 


2  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

atmosphere,  and  character  are  present  as  in  the  longer 
short  story.     S.  S.  M.,  24 : 1-5. 

7.  In  a  general  summary  of  the  literary  and  technical 
elements  present  in  the  little  dramatic  narrative,  its  power 
to  interpret  life,  history,  and  the  value  and  effect  of 
national  ideals  must  not  be  overlooked.  In  brief,  it  is  a 
short  story  in  miniature,  and  should  be  studied  as  such. 
See  also  the  comment  on  "  The  Song." 


WHAT  THE  VANDALS  LEAVE 

By  Heebert  Riley  Howe 

Reprinted  by  Permission  from  "  Life,"  September  9,  1915. 
(Copyrighted  by  Life  Publishing  Company,  1915) 

1.  The  war  was  over,  and  he  was  back  in  his  native 
city  that  had  been  retaken  from  the  Vandals.  He  was 
walking  rapidly  through  a  dimly-lit  quarter. 

2.  A  woman  touched  his  arm  and  accosted  him  in 
fuddled  accents. 

3.  "  Where  are  you  going,  M'sieu  ?    With  me,  hein  ?  " 

4.  He  laughed.  "  ISTo,  not  with  you,  old  girl.  I'm 
going  to  find  my  sweetheart." 

5.  He  looked  down  at  her. 

6.  They  were  near  a  street-lamp.  She  screamed.  He 
seized  her  by  the  shoulders  and  dragged  her  closer  to  the 
light.    His  fingers  dug  her  flesh,  and  his  eyes  gleamed. 

7.  "  Joan !  "  he  gasped. 


THE  SONG 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  This  story  is  notable  for  its  extreme  compactness 
and  brevity,  and  for  its  effective  miDgling  of  theme, 
plot,  atmosphere,  and  character  (S.  S.  M.  54:1).  Not- 
withstanding its  brevity  (about  700  words),  all  these  ele- 
ments appear  in  satisfying  proportion.  Character  is 
least  prominent,  the  central  person  being  a  type  figure — 
an  ordinary  laboring-class  man,  representing  here  the 
body  of  common-people,  in  democracies — on  the  "whole 
rather  indifferent  to  or  ignorant  of  the  fundamental  sig- 
nificance of  events  that  do  not  immediately  touch  their 
personal  concerns.  His  foil  is  the  German  thrush- 
shooter,  typifying  the  same  class  among  the  Germans. 

2.  The  story  is  emphatically  a  purpose  story.  It  is 
written  to  make  the  reader  realize  the  fundamental  issue 
of  the  present  great  struggle — the  spirit  of  humani- 
tarianism  that  produces  the  individual  and  national  point- 
of-view  of  men  living  in  democracies,  against  the  spirit  of 
inhumane  and  cruel  hardness,  seen  in  individual  and  in 
social  character,  that  is  the  product  of  autocracy  as  devel- 
oped in  its  modern  guise  and  exemplified  in  Germany 
under  Prussian  domination.  On  the  technical  questions, 
see  S.  S.  M.  26  :  36  ;  cf.  especially  27 :  4-8.  (On  the  plot- 
and  impression-value  of  the  bird-shooting  incident,  cf. 
S.  S.  M.  101:20-21.) 

3.  The  story  affords  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 

4 


The  Song  5 

power  of  literature  to  interpret  life.  Seven  hundred  words 
explain  to  us  the  personal,  social,  and  spiritual  effects  of 
two  opposed  philosophies  of  life  as  seen  in  current  history. 
See  S.  S.  M.  1:  1-11;  note  (for  technical  study)  the  con- 
crete details  employed,  and  their  adequate  embodiment  of 
the  ultimate  truths  presented  (e.  g.,  the  "  efficiency  "  of 
the  German  rifleman). 

4.  The  plot  organization  is  worth  observing,  owing  to 
the  brevity  of  the  narrative.  First  note  that  the  theme  is 
revealed  to  us  through  a  carefully  calculated  means — by 
revealing  how  Private  Drake  came  to  appreciate  what  he 
was  fighting  for.  ISText  note  that  this  story  conforms 
pretty  closely  to  the  type  described  in  S.  S.  M.  17 :  5, 
sents.  1-2  (cf.  also  16:1-4).  Third,  note  that  the  strug- 
gle is  mental — between  Drake's  ignorant  indifference  and 
selfishness  and  his  sense  of  a  great  ideal  at  stake.  The 
plot  organization  is  this  (cf.  S.  S.  M.  71-75)  : 


Par.  1.  Exposition;  central  person  and  his  indif- 

erence. 

2.  Generating  circumstance — Drake's   suffer- 

ing, causing  him  to  ask.  Why?  Rising 
action  begins.  Motivation  of  his  later 
understanding  by  indicating  his  hunger 
for  the  gentler  aspects  of  life,  represent- 
ing democratic  England. 

3.  Beginning  of  the  critical  situation;  prepa- 

ration for  decisive  moment. 
5.  Final  preparation  of  decisive  incident — 

the  song.  (Pars.  6-7  intensify  and  in- 
crease suspense.) 


6  Tooay's  Siioirr  Stories  Analyzed 

8-10.   Decisive  moment.     (Xote  the  difference  in 
point-of-view  between  the  two  side?.) 
11-14.  Falling-  action,  telescoped  with  grand  cli- 
max and  outcome  (S.  S.  M.  75:  C-D). 

5.    Cf.    further    S.  S.  M.    168:25-27;    13:1,    14:5 
15:1-3;    21:3;    44:2;    57:6;    63:14;    85:1-3;    94:6 
96:11;100:19;  115:1;  122:1;  127:  9  ;132 :  16;  154:7 
168:26;  179  :  3;180  :  4-5  ;  184:  10;  196:  13-14;  191:5-6 
195:11;  225:13;  228:15;  250:  last  par.  to  bottom  of 
251 ;  256:  last  par.;  257:  pars.  1  and  3.    This  story  is  in 
many  respects  an  unusually  good  example  of  the  modern 
prose  conte  in  its  essential  form.     Therefore  the  student 
is   recommended    to    review    the    passages    here   cited    in 
S.  S.  M.,  and  in  general  the  leading  principles  of  the  short 
story  as  a  type. 


THE  SONG 
By  C.  Hilton-Tuevey 

Keprinted  by  Permission  from  "  Life,"  March  30,  1916. 
(Copyrighted  by  Life  Publishing  Company,  1916) 

1.  Tim  Drake  was  no  swashbuckler.  He  joined  the 
colors  simply  as  a  business  proposition.  He  had  been  out 
of  work  for  months,  and  there  was  nothing  in  sight  for 
him.  At  the  great  camp  on  Salisbury  Plain  he  drilled 
as  if  it  were  part  of  a  schoolboy  lesson.  Of  the  great 
war — what  it  meant — the  issues  that  underlay  it — he 
knew  little  and  cared  nothing.  He  heard  a  lot  of  talk 
amongst  his  mates.  But  it  brushed  his  consciousness  as 
the  wing  of  a  bird  brushes  the  leaves  in  transit  through 
a  tree.  He  never  doubted  that  the  German  was  a  good 
fellow.  Fighting  was  a  business  with  him,  too.  He 
obeyed  orders.  If  they  were  bad  ones,  so  much  the  worse 
for  the  ones  who  gave  them. 

2.  His  first  bit  in  the  trenches  tried  Tim.  He  came 
out  after  fourteen  hours  under  fire,  white  and  shaken. 
But  that  was  only  his  body.  Tim  himself  was  not  afraid. 
He  felt  passive — a  cog  in  a  machine  in  which  he  had  lit- 
tle interest.  But  during  the  days  and  nights  that  ensued, 
the  horror  seemed  to  work  through  into  his  very  soul. 
He  would  come  staggering  out  of  the  trenches,  dazed  with 
the  vibrations  of  the  guns,  his  spirit  melting  like  water, 
his  courage  at  an  ebb.  He  asked  himself  why  he  had 
come  into  this  hell.    And  there  grew  upon  him  such  home- 

7 


8  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

sickness — such  longing  to  get  back  to  England — that  he 
could  have  bawled  like  a  kiddie  to  think  of  it! 

3.  One  morning,  just  before  the  dawn,  he  shuffled 
along  with  his  company  to  relieve  the  trenches.  He  had 
slept  badly,  dreaming  of  home,  which  meant  to  him  old 
grey  London — the  center  of  the  web  of  the  w'orld — and 
the  innocent,  blossoming  lanes  and  byways  beyond  the 
clamor  of  her  streets. 

4.  Overhead  a  streak  of  dawn,  faint  and  ghostlike, 
appeared.  The  lines  were  so  close  that  he  and  his  mates 
could  hear  the  Germans  stirring  and  the  indistinct  rumble 
of  conversation. 

5.  The  day  broke  in  rose  and  gold.  Soon  the  cool  of 
the  morning  would  be  gone.  A  lanky  tree  between  the 
lines  still  stood,  half  of  its  green  branches  shot  away.  As 
they  waited  for  the  beginning  of  the  long  day's  strain — 
miracle  of  miracles! — a  thrush  lighted  there  on  the  scarred 
tree  and  sang! 

G.  There  was  silence  in  the  trenches — the  silence  that 
is  the  greatest  tribute  the  listener  can  bring  to  the  artist, 
be  he  bird  or  man.  For  a  moment  the  soldiers  laid  down 
their  guns  on  the  parapet,  while  their  hearts  beat  with 
the  lovely  music. 

7.  It  was  the  last  touch  to  Tim's  homesickness.  The 
tears  gushed  out  of  his  eyes.  He  put  his  head  on  his 
arms  and  cried  like  a  child,  not  caring  who  saw.  It 
brought  back  the  birds  that  sang  in  the  swaying  hedges 
by  the  road,  out  of  London,  on  a  Sunday.  It  drew  his 
homesick  heart  out  of  his  body. 

8.  And  now  there  was  a  stir  in  the  German  trenches — 
some  guttural  laughter,  as  at  a  very  good  joke,  then  the 
sharp  bark  of  a  rifle! 


The  Song  9 

9.  The  song  ceased,  as  if  a  silver  thread  had  broken. 
Out  of  the  stark  tree  fell  a  tiny  bunch  of  brown  feathers — • 
a  little  limp  body. 

10.  There  was  an  audible  gasp  from  the  English  lines. 

11.  The  marksman,  in  the  triumph  of  the  moment, 
carelessly  exposed  his  head  above  the  safety  line. 

12.  An  echo  of  his  own  shot  rang  out  in  deadly 
repartee. 

13.  And  back  in  the  British  trenches  the  man  who  had 
wept  at  the  song  of  the  thrush  grimly  cut  a  notch  in  the 
wood  of  his  rifle,  like  the  veriest  savage  exulting  in  the 
death  of  his  enemy.  For  him  the  incident  was  an  epitome 
of  the  great  war. 

14.  Now  at  last,  in  a  blaze  of  unquenchable  rage, 
Private  Drake  knew  what  he  was  fighting  for! 


ANCHORS  AWEIGH 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  Anchors  Aweigh  "  is  here  introduced  to  illustrate 
further  the  difference  between  the  conte,  strictly  so  called, 
and  some  of  the  effective  forms  employing  the  same  ele- 
ments and  kinds  of  material,  hut  not  organizing  them 
according  to  the  short-story  requirements.  "  Anchors 
Aweigh "  should  be  studied  first  in  comparison  with 
"  What  the  Vandals  Leave  "  and  "  The  Song  "  (the  refer- 
ences contained  in  the  notes  on  these  two  are  those  pri- 
marily significant  likewise  with  reference  to  "  Anchors 
Aweigh  ").  It  can  then  be  compared  with  "  Miss  Mitty 
and  the  Ages  Hence." 

2.  In  making  the  comparison  directed  above,  note  that 
we  have  here  no  plot,  in  the  short-story  sense,  there  being 
no  complication,  and  consequently  no  conflict  or  struggle 
of  the  sort  required  by  dramatic  plot.  There  is  mental 
conflict,  in  the  sense  of  mental  disturbance  or  suffering; 
but  there  is  no  struggle  between  opposing  forces,  and  con- 
sequently there  is  no  crisis  as  meant  in  S.  S.  M.  15-18,  and 
no  conclusive  outcome.  "  Anchors  Aweigh  "  is  rather  an 
episode,  or  independent  dramatized  situation  (S.  S.  M. 
9 :  3,  especially  a  and  e). 

3.  Among  the  elements  here  present  that  are  also 
found  in  the  conte  are  characterization  (note  the  clear 
indication  of  the  three  personalities,  that  of  the  cabman 
affording  contrast  much  as  Shakspere's  comic  personages 

10 


Anchors  Aweigh  11 

afford  contrast  in  emotional  or  tragic  situations).  The 
character  element  is  strong  enough  to  warrant  us  in  coin- 
ing the  descriptive  phrase,  "  character  episode,"  in  rec- 
ognition of  its  presence. 

4.  The  episode  achieves  a  single  impression,  largely 
that  of  atmosphere  and  emotion  (subjective  coloring; 
S.  S.  M.  54-57),  and  not  the  result  of  struggle  and  out- 
come (plot). 


ANCHORS  AWEIGH 
By  Harriet  Welles 

Reprinted   frc-n   "  Scribner's  Magazine  "   for  August,   1917,  by  Per- 
mission of  the  Editors  and  the  Author. 
(Copyrighted,  1917) 

1.  So  firmly  is  the  superstition,  "  It  is  bad  luck  to 
watch  your  husband's  ship  out  of  sight,"  established  among 
"  the  wives  "  in  the  United  States  navy,  that  if  you  had 
questioned  Mrs.  Frank  Bradley — wife  of  a  junior  lieu- 
tenant and  a  bride  of  two  months — as  to  its  origin,  she 
would  have  answered  unhesitatingly  that  it  was  "  an  order 
from  the  secretary  of  the  navy." 

2.  She  had  no  idea  of  disobeying  the  order  when,  after 
bidding  her  husband  good-by  very  early  that  morning  and 
crying  herself  into  a  state  of  exhaustion  afterward,  she 
realized  she  could  get  to  the  navy-yard  in  time  to  see  the 
ship  sail  and  perhaps  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  him. 

3.  Like  most  officers.  Lieutenant  Bradley  "  didn't  want 
his  wife  making  a  nuisance  of  herself  around  the  ship," 
but  if  she  sat  in  the  jitney  he  wouldn't  know  she  was 
there.  And  the  jitney-man,  on  being  questioned  as  to 
charges — for  the  prudent  wife  of  a  junior  lieutenant  at- 
tends to  such  details,  even  in  time  of  stress — had  answered 
that  "he  wouldn't  charge  anything  for  waiting;  it'd  be 
a  kind  of  novelty  to  watch  a  battleship  get  away." 

4.  Out  of  the  wind,  sheltered  by  a  building,  Mrs. 
Bradley  could  see  that  the  few  men  on  deck  were  busy. 

12 


Anchors  Aweiqh  13 

5.  The  duty-launch  had  been  hoisted  and  secured ;  the 
forward  gangway  lowered ;  two  noisy  tugs  came  alongside ; 
on  the  bridge  the  navigator  bent  over  a  large  chart ;  the 
mail-orderly  returned  from  his  last  trip  to  the  post-office ; 
a  messenger  boy,  whistling  lustily,  sauntered  up  with  a 
handful  of  telegrams. 

6.  Four  bells  struck.  The  ship  was  to  sail  at  half-past 
ten.  Through  a  blur  of  tears  Mrs.  Bradley  saw  the  navy- 
yard  workmen  gather  about  the  after  gangway. 

7.  Several  poorly  clad  women  arrived  and  stood  near 
her;  they  tried  to  cheer  a  younger  woman  who  was  sob- 
bing and  monotonously  asking:  "What  if  there's  war?" 

8.  The  jitney-man  heard  her.  "  If  there's  war  that 
big  ship  might  be  the  first  one  to  go  to  the  bottom,"  he 
observed  cheerfully  to  his  passenger. 

9.  "  Good-morning !  It's  little  Mrs.  Bradley,  isn't 
it  ?  "  questioned  a  pleasant  voice. 

10.  The  admiral's  wife  stood  beside  the  jitney. 

11.  "I'm  visiting  at  the  commandant's — the  house  is 
so  near  I  couldn't  resist  getting  a  last  glimpse  of  things," 
she  said,  and  laughed  apologetically.  "  John  hates  women 
hanging  around  the  ship — but  he  can't  see  me  here,"  she 
added. 

12.  "  Do  admirals  feel  that  way  ?  I  thought  it  was  just 
my  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley. 

13.  The  admiral's  wife  smiled. 

14.  "  This  must  be  your  first  parting,"  she  observed. 

15.  Mrs.  Bradley  nodded  forlornly. 

16.  "  Because  there  are  fifty-two  officers  on  that  ship 
— ^most  of  them  are  married — and  fifty  of  the  wives  aren't 
anywhere  in  sight,"  said  the  admiral's  wife. 

17.  "  They've  grown   used   to   seeing  their   husbands 


14  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

go — or  else  they  don't  love  them  as  I  do  mine,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Bradley  resentfully. 

IS.  "  I've  said  good-by  to  John  in  every  port  from 
Olongapo  to  Pensacola ;  it  never  loses  its  novelty  by  get- 
ting easier;  but  one  grows  more — patient,"  observed  the 
admiral's  wife. 

19.  "  Other  times  couldn't  be  as  bad !  This  parting  is 
terrible,  and  hard,  because  there  may  be  war,"  cried  Mrs. 
Bradley. 

20.  The  admiral's  wife  did  not  answer.  She  clinched 
her  hands  as  she  remembered  a  parting  long  ago  in  a  gray 
hospital-room,  when  her  ensign  son  looked  at  her  from  un- 
recognizing  eyes  and  agonizingly  moved  his  body  under 
the  encircling  bandages.    .    .    . 

21.  "  Minor  turret  explosion  on  battleship,"  announced 
the  earliest  editions  of  the  newspapers  when,  without  a 
word  for  her  to  treasure  through  the  years,  her  son  had 
slipped  aw'ay   .    .    .   into  the  dawn. 

22.  Resolutely  the  admiral's  wife  glanced  at  the  little 
group  of  women  near  them. 

23.  "  Those  are  sailors'  wives — one  of  them  has  a  baby 
that  is  too  tiny  to  bring  here  this  cold  morning,"  she  said. 

24.  "  That's  the  one  that's  crying  all  time  about  war," 
volunteered  the  jitney-man. 

25.  "  Frank  says — it  will  be  a  naval  war,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradley,  swallowing  with  difficulty. 

26.  "I  hope  you  cheered  him  up — our  men  need  all 
their  courage  during  these  trying  days,"  said  the  admiral's 
wife  briskly.  She  did  not  mention  that  five  times  during 
their  last  few  minutes  together  the  admiral  had  reminded 
her  not  to  forget  to  pay  his  life-insurance  dues. 

27.  Mrs.  Bradley  began  to  cry.     "  I  told  Frank   .    .    . 


Anchoes  Aweigh  15 

that  if  anything  happened  to    .    .    .   him    .    .    .    I'd  soon 
join  him,"  she  sobbed. 

28.  "Splendid!"  observed  the  admiral's  wife  dryly; 
"  after  that  I  suppose  he  left  the  house  singing  joyfully — 
at  the  top  of  his  voice." 

29.  "  What  gets  me  is  that  while  those  fellows  are 
going  about  their  business  on  deck  there  can  be  a  sub- 
marine sitting  right  on  the  bottom  underneath  them,"  re- 
marked the  jitney-man  speculatively. 

30.  "  Your  first  name  doesn't  happen  to  be  Job,  does 
it  ?  "  the  admiral's  wife  asked  him  impersonally. 

31.  "  No'm,"  he  answered — "  Samuel — Samuel  John- 
son Jones — but,  in  case  you  want  me,  the  telephone's 
under  the  name  of  Sullivan " 

32.  Five  bells  struck. 

33.  The  ship's  siren  tore  the  silence  into  dangling 
shreds.  Tugs  added  their  hoarse  voices.  ISTear-by  de- 
stroyers called  a  greeting — and  farewell.  Voices  shouted 
orders — through  drifting  clouds  of  smoke. 

34.  Slowly  .  .  .  the  great  dreadnought  moved  .  .  . 
and  as  the  whistles  quieted  down  the  band  on  the  quarter- 
deck played  the  opening  bars  of  the  favorite  naval-academy 
song,  "  Anchors  Aweigh." 

35.  Gayly  the  old  tune  lilted  over  the  crowded  gray 
masses  of  steel  and  stone  as  it  had  echoed  across  sunny 
parade-ground  and  uproarious  football  fields — when  youth 
called  to  youth  of  springtime  that  is  so  quickly  gone. 

36.  Mrs.  Bradley,  her  eyes  shining,  jumped  from  the 
jitney  and  frantically  waved  her  muif.  Tears  and  fore- 
bodings were  swept  away  by  an  overwhelming  flood  of 
enthusiasm. 

37.  The  sailors'  wives  stepped  forward;  the  one  with 


IG  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  tiny  baby  lifted  it  high  and,  steadying  its  head,  bade 
it  "  look  at  father's  boat — and  the  pretty  flag." 

38.  Puffing  .  .  .  the  tugs  warped  the  ship  from  her 
pier  .  .  .  shoved  her  sidewise  .  .  .  into  the  channel 
.  .  .  paused  ...  a  perceptible  minute  .  .  .  and  moved 
ahead    .    .    .   down-stream. 

39.  Slowly  .  .  .  she  gathered  momentum ;  at  her  bow 
two  white-tipped  lines  of  water  flowed  sharply  out  .  .  . 
more  faintly  "  Anchors  Aweigh  "  drifted  back  on  the  cold 
wind. 

40.  Mrs.  Bradley,  mindful  of  superstition,  turned  away 
and  climbed  into  the  jitney. 

41.  "  But  where  is  the  admiral's  wife  ?  "  she  asked. 

42.  "  The  lady  that  was  talking  to  you  ?  She's  gone !  " 
said  the  jitney-man.  "  I  asked  her  something,  but  she 
didn't  answer — just  shook  her  head  and  walked  away — 
sort  of  stumbling " 

43.  He  cranked  the  engine  vigorously. 

44.  "  The  reason  she  couldn't  answer  was  because  she 
was  crying,"  said  the  jitney-man. 


MISS  MITTY  AND  THE  AGES  HENCE 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  In  considering  the  comments  made  on  this  story,  the 
student  is  cautioned  to  remember  that  they  are  made  to 
explain  more  clearly  what,  in  its  essentials,  the  conte, 
strictly  so  called,  is  and  is  not ;  they  are  not  to  be  con- 
strued into  derogatory  judgment  of  the  story.  A  piece  of 
short  fiction  may  have  numerous  merits  that  quite  war- 
rant its  existence,  yet  not  be  a  conte,  and  authors  are 
under  no  obligation  to  cast  their  narrative  always  in  the 
short-story  mold.  That  this  narrative  was  accepted  by 
the  editor  justifies,  from  the  commercial  point  of  view, 
the  author's  method.  So  do  two  further  considerations. 
One  is,  that  it  doubtless  was  written  in  this  form  partly 
because  the  form  fitted  the  speculative  mood  in  which  the 
theme  had  its  birth.  The  other  is,  that  the  narrative, 
though  not  a  close-wrought  story,  has  doubtless  pleased 
numerous  readers  (as  it  has  this  commentator)  by  provok- 
ing them  also  to  a  reflective  consideration  of  the  idea  on 
which  it  is  made  to  turn.  To  these  we  may  add  that  the 
speculation  so  stimulated  in  the  reader  is  enlivened  and 
given  concentration  by  means  of  the  two  distinct  illus- 
trative episodes  worked  out  to  support  the  theme.  If 
therefore  one  is  tempted  to  condemn  the  structural  plan, 
he  should  before  deciding  answer  these  questions :  Is  close- 
wrought  dramatic  plot  wholly  consistent  with  the  presen- 
tation of  an  idea  that  is  conceived  and  considered  in  a 
merely  speculative  mood  ?     And  would  a  single  illustra- 

17 


IS  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

tion  of  the  tlienuitic  idea  bo  adequate  to  impress  it  on 
us  ? — i.e.,  if  the  author  gave  us  only  episode  one  or  epi- 
sode two,  without  the  other,  should  we  have  a  wholly  satis- 
fying amount  of  "  evidence "  before  us,  or  would  the 
speculation  appear  inadequately  supported  with  illustra- 
tive incidents  ?  (How  is  it  in  "  Nerve  "  ?)  Evidently, 
then,  narrative  fiction  may  be  employed  for  purposes  other 
than  that  of  the  conte  in  its  strict  form ;  see  S.  S.  M. 
26 :  1-2,  but  in  applying  the  comment,  omit  the  word 
"  baldly  "  as  there  used,  since  the  speculative  mood  and 
the  management  of  the  separate  episodes  redeems  "  Miss 
Mitty  "  from  bald  didacticism. 

2.  As  a  whole,  this  narrative  illustrates  loose  plot 
(S.  S.  M.  10-12).  Though  each  part  separately  has  an 
interwrought  plot  of  its  own,  the  two  together  have  slight 
"  logical "  connection  with  each  other.  The  appearance 
of  Miss  Mitty  in  each  is  the  only  link,  and  this  appear- 
ance is  purely  arbitrary.  Except  that  the  author  awar- 
edly  chose  to  introduce  her  into  each  of  the  two,  they  are 
essentially  distinct  and  separate  stories,  with  independ- 
ent plots.  These  separate  plots  will  moreover  be  found 
nearer  the  standards  of  the  close-wrought  plot  than  is  the 
linked-together  set  of  events  made  by  joining  them. 
Again,  in  each  part  the  development  is  sketchy  rather  than 
intensive;  and  in  part  two.  Miss  Mitty  almost  drops  out 
of  the  real  story ;  the  vital  part  could  be  told  readily  with- 
out her,  for  it  is  what  concerns  Kate  and  Ten  Eyck,  and 
Miss  Mitty  is  not  at  all  indispensable  to  any  incident  it 
contains.  Even  Kate's  refusal  to  accept  Ten  Eyck's  at- 
tentions (pars.  Y4,  88)  can  be  motivated  entirely  without 
Miss  Mitty. 

3.  Owing  to  the  looseness  of  the  plot,  few  of  the  unities 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  19 

can  be  observed.  Neither  the  unity  of  time,  the  unity  of 
place,  the  unity  of  persons,  nor  the  unity  of  action  is  pre- 
served, or  sought.  A  certain  unity  of  tone  results  from 
the  fact  that  the  author  tells  both  episodes  in  the  same 
spirit,  and  a  factitious  unity  of  person  is  given  by  con- 
tinuing Miss  Mitty  as  a  person  in  part  two.  But  even  so 
the  principal  unifying  element  is  the  theme  suggested  by 
the  title.  In  "  His  Bubble  Reputation  "  we  noted  the 
absence  of  any  person  who  could  be  regarded  as  the  cen- 
tral person.  In  the  present  story.  Miss  Mitty  is  formally 
the  central  person.  But  which  of  the  two  narratives  is 
most  unified  in  its  effect  ?  Is  the  one  intensive,  the  other 
extensive  (or  cursory)  in  its  method  ? 

4.  The  principle  of  unity  can  be  studied  "  in  reverse  " 
by  noting  that  the  present  narrative  does  not  consist  of 
two  related  incidents,  or  episodes,  belonging  to  the  same 
crisis  or  critical  period  (S.  S.  M.,  15-18),  but  of  two  dis- 
tinct episodes  each  having  its  own  critical  period  and  in- 
dependent outcome,  unrelated  to  that  of  the  other ;  and  by 
noting  the  consequent  dispersal  of  attention  and  impres- 
sion if  the  two  be  taken  together — as  they  are  here  pre- 
sented. 

5.  The  same  method  of  construction — the  loose  cou- 
pling together  of  episodes  rather  than  the  close  inter- 
twining of  plot  incidents — is  responsible  for  the  fact  that 
unity  of  effect  is  comparatively  weak.  See  S.  S.  M.,  180  :  4. 
The  method  of  construction  much  resembles  that  described 
in  S.  S.  M.  26-27  as  characterizing  didactic  narration.  In 
estimating  the  strength  of  effect  of  the  present  narrative, 
compare  it  with  the  effect  produced  by  the  extract 
printed  in  S.  S.  M.,  19  ff ;  then  consider  S.  S.  M.,  19  ff., 
pars.  1  and  3. 


20  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

6.  The  student  can  profitably  puzzle  himself  by  trying 
to  classify  this  narrative  under  the  heads  given  in 
S.  S.  M.  9:3. 

7.  Part  one  and  part  two  of  the  narrative  contain 
each  the  essential  concept  of  a  short  story,  but  in  rather 
sketchy  or  outline  development.  Profitable  practice  can 
be  had  by  developing  out  of  either  of  these  parts  a  more 
detailed  and  closely  verought  conte,  following  especially 
the  technique  explained  in  S.  S.  M.  15-18,  supplemented 
by  that  explained  on  pp.  10-15  and  19-22. 


MISS  MITTY  AND  THE  AGES  HENCE 
By  Anne  O'Hagan 

Reprinted  through  the  courteous  permission  of  the  Editors  and  the 

Author,  from  "  femith's  Magazine,"  February,   1914. 

(Copyrighted,  1914,  by  Street  and  Smith) 

1.  Miss  Mitty  often  said  that  she  was  the  loneliest 
woman  in  the  world.  She  never  said  it  lugubri- 
ously, however.  The  words  were  always  spoken  in  a 
way  that  seemed  rather  to  call  attention  to  the  blessings 
of  the  person  whom  she  addressed  than  to  her  own 
sorrows. 

2.  "  If  only  I  had  an  old  mother,  now,"  Miss  Mitty 
would  say  to  the  possessor  of  an  old  mother,  half  admir- 
ingly, half  enviously,  "  it  seems  to  me  I'd  never  feel 
lonely  any  more.  Or  an  old  father,  who  needed  me,  or 
even  an  aunt  or  an  uncle." 

3.  She  seldom  let  her  flights  of  fancy  in  regard  to 
human  belongings  reach  the  height  of  expressing  a  desire 
for  a  husband  or  for  children  of  her  own.  Sometimes,  to 
be  sure,  she  used  to  say: 

4.  "  I  have  half  a  mind  to  adopt  a  baby.  Wouldn't 
it  be  lovely  to  have  someone  to  do  for,  besides  yourself? 
But,  dear  me,  what  would  I  do  with  it  while  I  was  out 
sewing  all  day  ?  Not  many  people  would  want  their 
seamstress  bringing  a  baby  to  work.  But  it  would  be  nice 
to  find  it  in  its  little  crib  when  I  came  home  of  an 
evening." 

21 


22  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

5.  Very  often  lliss  Mitty's  listeners,  the  married 
women  for  whom  she  did  sewing,  wonld  shake  their  heads 
at  her,  and  would  tell  her  that  she  didn't  know  when  she 
was  well  off;  that  she  had  no  idea  of  the  work  and  the 
worry  that  she  was  missing. 

6.  And  Miss  Mitty,  cocking  her  head  on  one  side,  and 
appearing  to  debate  the  question  within  her  mind,  would 
generally  say: 

1.  "  "Well,  work  and  worry  against  loneliness — and  I'll 
take  the  work  and  worry  every  time.  Somehow  you  get 
to  feeling  that  you're  no  use  in  the  world,  if  all  that  you 
do  is  to  keep  a  watertight  roof  over  your  own  head,  and  a 
warm  coat  on  your  own  back,  and  good  food  in  your  own 
stomach,  and  put  by  a  little  each  week  for  your  own  grave 
when  all's  over  with  you. 

8.  "  It  isn't  just  the  comfort  of  having  someone  to  do 
for,  now,  that  a  lonely  person  misses.  It's  the  going  on 
and  on — ages  on.  Perhaps  you  aren't  much,  and  you 
haven't  seen  much  or  known  much ;  but,  sakes  alive,  what 
does  it  matter  if  you're  going  to  have  it  all  in  your  great- 
great-grandson — if  he's  going  to  see  the  Indian  temples 
and  the  castles  on  the  Khine,  and  if  he's  going  to  know 
all  that  there  is  in  books,  and  be  able  to  tell  the  stars  one 
from  another?  You've  helped  to  make  him.  It's  you 
that's  going  on  in  him.  And  every  time  that  you  do  a 
hard,  right  thing,  or  let  alone  an  easy,  wrong  thing,  why, 
you're  affecting  him  a  hundred  years  away !  Oh,  it's  just 
wonderful !  But  if  you're  a  lone  woman,  like  me,  it's  not 
only  comfort  that  you  miss,  it's  being  an  influence. 
I've  always  wanted  to  be  an  influence,  and  look  at 
me!" 

9.    And  Miss  Mitty's  joyous,  throaty,  little  laugh  would 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  23 

ring  out  in  a  half-plaintive,  half-merry  self-derision.  She 
saw  the  humor  of  mentioning  herself  and  influence  in  the 
same  breath. 

10.  However,  that  imagination  of  Miss  Mitty's  which 
could  picture  grandsons  alive  and  real  among  the  mar- 
velous scenes  familiar  to  her  only  through  ''  The  World's 
Wonder  Book,"  enabled  her  to  live  fairly  happily,  although 
she  conscientiously  tried  to  keep  it  under  control  during 
five  out  of  the  seven  days  in  each  week.  But  on  Saturday 
afternoons  and  Sundays  she  gave  it  a  free  rein.  And  that 
was  how  it  happened  that  habitues  of  upper  Fifth  Avenue 
grew  in  time  to  have  a  certain  feeling  of  recognition  for 
an  agile  little  figure,  rather  queerly  dressed,  and  for  a 
wistful,  half-smiling,  middle-aged  little  face  that  they  saw 
once  a  week  in  their  habitat.  For  Miss  Mitty  gave  her 
imagination  its  Saturday  half  holiday  about  matinee  and 
tea  time  on  that  gay  and  crowded  thoroughfare. 

11.  She  always  walked  along  quite  briskly,  with  an 
air  of  purpose.  She  always  seemed  to  have  an  errand,  a 
pleasant  errand,  if  one  could  judge  from  the  soft  shining 
of  her  nearsighted  eyes  behind  her  glasses,  and  the  faint 
smiling  of  her  lips.  And  if  one  followed  her  movements, 
he  would  discover  that  she  did,  indeed,  have  an  errand. 
She  always  went  on  Saturdays  to  the  big  candy  store, 
where  men  were  buying  their  week-end  boxes,  and  women 
making  their  dinner-table  selections.  And  she  always 
trotted,  with  her  birdlike  briskness  of  manner,  to  that  part 
of  the  long  counter  devoted  to  the  more  innocuous  variety 
of  sweets  suitable  for  children.  She  scanned  them  all  with 
a  judicial  eye ;  now  and  then  even  with  a  judicial  mouth 
she  tested  them.  Anyone  looking  at  her  would  have  said, 
inevitably,  that  she  was  a  quaintly  careful  mother,  prop- 


24  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

cy\\  c'oiK'cnu'tl  about  the  digestion  of  a  nursery  full  of 
ehiklren. 

12.  That  was  what  Radcliff  said  to  himself  the  first 
time  that  he  saw  her.  Radcliff  always  stopped  at  the  big 
candy  shop  on  his  way  down  from  his  chambers  to  the 
train  that  he  took  each  Saturday  afternoon  out  to  Ardsley 
and  Amy  Kleston.  Amy  had  a  ridiculous  appetite  for 
niarrons,  and  it  always  amused  him  and  gratified  some 
sense  of  masculine  superiority  in  him  to  see  the  childlike 


1-11.  The  openinsi'  has  the  nature  of  a  character  sketch.  Re- 
view S.  S.  M.,  122-151,  and  see  S.  S.  M.,  161:15-20;  182:6-9; 
209:3-4;  222-228.— Does  this  opening  conform  to  S.  S.  M., 
124:  5-6?  Can  you  suggest  a  better  way  of  organizing  and  order- 
ing the  materials  necessary  for  this  narrative?  Since  Miss  Mitty 
is  to  be  the  determining  influence  throughout,  is  it  well  to  devote 
so  much  attention  to  her  at  the  outset?  Is  such  a  character  sketch 
as  effective  for  opening  as  a  dramatic  incident  would  be?  Cf. 
this  opening  with  that  of  "  That  Hahnheimer  Story,"  "  A  Rag- 
time Lady,"  "A  Quiet  Life,"  "His  Bubble  Reputation,"  "The 
Love  of  Men,"  "  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle,"  "  The  Opal  Morning," 
"  The  Great  God,"  et  al.,  and  point  out  the  reasons  you  discover 
for  employing  the  different  forms  in  the  different  stories  (consider 
especially  the  aptness  of  these  openings  to  catch  interest — 
S.  S.  M.,  134 :  20-21 — and  their  particular  adaptedness  to  the  rest 
of  the  story  in  contributing  to  its  general  arrangement  and 
organization). — Estimate  the  opening  with  reference  to  S.  S.  M., 
137 : 2,  e.g. ;  with  reference  to  140 : 7-8 ;  with  reference  to 
149 :  18-19.— S.  S.  M.,  152:3.  How  do  you  account  for  the 
character-sketch  opening  of  the  narrative,  if  the  princij^le  of  this 
paragraph  is  sound? — S.  S.  M.,  164: 19.  Is  the  comment  verified 
by  the  present  narrative? — S.  S.  M.,  182:6-9.  Studying  Miss 
Mitty  in  pars.  1-11  of  the  narrative,  and  throughout  it,  subject 
the  presentation  to  the  test  of  the  various  principles  indicated  by 
the  italics. — S.  S.  M.,  211 :  4.  Does  the  author  observe  this  prin- 
ciple?— Test  the  characterization  by  the  principles  of  S.  S.  M., 
222-229. — Write  out  a  lively  criticism  of  the  narrative  based  on 
the  study  directed  above. 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  25 

eagerness  with  which  she  dipped  into  the  big  box.  Child- 
like eagerness  was  such  an  unexpected  quality  in  Amy 
that  it  was  probably  the  most  piquantly  charming  thing 
about  her. 

13.  The  first  time  that  he  saw  Miss  Mitty,  distracted 
between  molasses  peppermints  and  barley  sugar,  he  smiled. 
She  was  such  an  incongruous  little  figure  in  the  shop. 
Radcliff  had  an  eye  for  contrasts  in  his  so-called  idle  mo- 
ments ;  those  were  the  moments  in  which  he  was  not  con- 
cerned with  the  operations  of  the  stock  market.  He  had 
tried  being  a  story  writer  when  he  came  out  of  college, 
before  he  had  found  out  how  much  more  profitable  it  is  to 
be  a  broker;  and  some  of  his  old  tricks  of  mind  and 
imagination  had  remained  with  him.  He  tried  to  describe 
Miss  Mitty,  with  her  quaint  little  air,  and  her  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  clothes,  to  Amy.  But  Mrs.  Kleston  was  not 
interested. 

14.  The  next  Saturday,  RadclifF's  imagination  insisted 
upon  following  Miss  Mitty  home  and  distributing  that 
pound  of  candy,  piece  by  piece,  and  always  after  meals, 
among  five  or  six  children.  He  did  not  mention  this  pic- 
ture to  Amy  Kleston.  She  had  told  him,  quite  frankly, 
that  children  bored  her ;  she  admitted  that  she  had  been 
bored  even  by  her  own  little  boy  during  the  three  or 
four  years  that  she  had  permitted  the  child  and  Mr. 
Kleston  to  condemn  her  to  the  sort  of  life  that  she 
loathed. 

15.  Amy's  son  had  been  born  two  years  after  her  mar- 
riage, and  that  insane  experiment,  as  she  called  it,  had 
lasted  only  six  years  before  the  divorce.  Perhaps  she  was 
right  in  saying  that  she  had  tried  the  situation  long 
enough  to  know  that  it  didn't  suit  her.    The  boy  was  living 


20  Today's  Short  Stokiks  Analyzed 

with  his  father's  jinreiits,  and  in  the  early  days  of  his  in- 
t'at nation  it  had  vclii'ved  KadclitT  innnonscly  to  know  that 
he  woukl  never  be  obliged  to  share  Amy's  affection  with 
the  child  of  another  man,  Xatnrally,  therefore,  he  did 
not  reveal  to  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Kleston,  on  the  second 
Saturday  of  observing  Miss  Mitty,  the  idle  speculation 
that  the  sight  of  her  had  aroused  in  him. 

16.  On  the  third  Saturday  he  was  amazed  to  find  that 
he  was  looking  forward  with  some  anxiety  to  seeing  the 
queer  little  woman  with  the  friendly  eyes  and  the  kind 
smile.  The  vision  of  her  occupied  the  foreground  of  his 
imagination  even  to  the  exclusion  of  the  beautiful  figure 
that  usually  held  that  place  at  that  hour — the  figure  of 
Amy  Kleston,  long,  slim,  sinuous,  with  dark,  provocative 
eyes,  and  skin  as  fair  as  a  camellia  petal.  He  felt  a  relief, 
a  sense  of  not  being  cheated,  when  he  arrived  at  the  store 
in  time  to  meet  Miss  Mitty  and  her  modest  parcel  going 
out. 

17.  He  held  the  door  open  for  her,  thereby  ousting 
from  the  service  for  w^hich  he  was  hired  a  small  boy 
resplendent  in  green  and  brass  livery.  Miss  Mitty  thanked 
him  heartily,  and  he  caught  the  quality  of  her  voice,  its 
wistful,  happy  friendliness.  He  told  himself  that  she  re- 
minded him  of  a  girl  whom  he  had  known  out  home  in 
Indiana  long  ago,  a  girl  with  whom  he  had  gone  to  school, 
a  girl  to  whom — Radcliff  called  a  sharp  halt  upon  his 
recollections. 

18.  "  There's  no  use  being  a  sentimental  fool,"  he  told 
himself,  "  and  she's  probably  buying  candy  this  blessed 
minute  for  her  brood's  Sunday  luncheon." 

19.  Her  brood !  If  the  glitter  of  success  and  the 
glamour    of    a    succession    of    Amy    Klestons    had    not 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  27 

estranged  him  and  the  Indiana  girl  years  and  years  ago, 
that  brood  might  have  been  his ! 

20.  "  Thank  God  it  isn't !  "  said  Eadcliff  roughly. 

21.  He  thought  that  he  was  saying  it  to  himself,  and 
not  until  the  young  goddess  behind  the  counter  raised  her 
eyebrows  at  him  and  icily  begged  his  "  pawdon,"  did  he 
realize  that  he  had  spoken  aloud.  Whereupon  he  begged 
her  pardon,  and  demanded  the  usual  Saturday  supply  of 
marrons  for  his  fiancee. 

22.  He  hoped  that  Amy  and  her  father  and  mother, 
with  whom  she  was  living,  would  not  have  the  house  filled 
with  the  usual  noisy,  card-playing,  hard-riding,  hard- 
drinking  crowd  of  week-enders.  He  wanted  a  chance  to 
talk  to  Amy  alone,  seriously,  not  merely  for  the  usual 
snatched  half  hour  of  allurement  and  endearment ;  he 
wanted  to  talk  to  her  about  their  marriage.  But  by  some 
obstinate  trick,  his  imagination  refused  to  glow  at  the 
thought  of  that  consummation,  and  went  following 
Miss  Mitty  home  to  her  supposititious  family.  It  also 
took  a  journey  westward  to  the  girl  he  used  to 
know. 

23.  Fate  vouchsafed  the  opportunity  for  serious  con- 
versation with  his  affianced.  And  no  one  could  have  been 
more  surprised  than  he  himself  to  hear  how  he  availed 
himself  of  it. 

24.  "  How  about  your  little  boy.  Amy  ?  "  he  asked 
Mrs.  Kleston,  after  she  had  averred  that  she  could  get 
ready  for  her  wedding  in  a  month,  because  "  a  divorcee 
should  always  be  married  quietly ;  it's  bad  taste  not 
to." 

25.  Amy's  eyes  narrowed  at  the  absurd  question,  and 
all  the  supple,  graceful  body  seemed  to  stiffen. 


28  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

2G.    "  Whixt  do  you  luoau  ?  "  she  asked  shortly. 

27.  "  You'll  want  hiui  with  you,  when  you  have  a 
home  of  your  own  again?"  suggested  Radcliff.  "The 
court  awaiHUnl  him  to  you,  did  it  not?  " 

28.  ''  Divided  him  between  us,"  Amy  corrected  him 
coldly.  ''  The  rest  of  the  arrangement  was  a  purely 
amicable  one  between  us.  The  child's  all  right.  Why 
should  I  bother?  The  old  Klestons  are  devoted  to  him. 
It  would  break  their  hearts,"  added  Amy  piously,  as  one 
who  could  not  be  guilty  of  harshness  to  the  aged,  "  to  give 
him  up." 

29.  "  And  doesn't  it  do  anything  to  your  heart. 
Amy?" 

30.  "  Really,  Hal,  I've  never  made  the  slightest  pre- 
tense of  considering  myself  a  good  mother,  or  even  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  good  mother.  Children  bore  me  stiff.  It's 
much  better  for  every  one  concerned  that  the  boy  should 
stay  w^here  he  is,  especially  for  himself." 

31.  Radcliff  listened  attentively,  all  the  while  con- 
trasting in  his  mind  Amy's  looks  and  voice  with  the  looks 
and  voice  of  the  w^oman  for  whom  he  had  opened  the  door 
of  the  candy  shop,  and  of  the  girl  whom  he  had  used  to 
know  in  Indiana.  And,  suddenly,  he  heard  himself  say- 
ing, again  greatly  to  his  own  astonishment : 

32.  "  I'm  getting  old,  Amy.  I'm  thirty-eight.  I 
want  the  real  thing." 

33.  And  Amy  Kleston,  being  as  she  herself  would 
have  said,  no  fool,  had  understood  him  perfectly.  And 
having  ample  proof  on  every  hand  that  not  all  men  had 
reached  the  same  age  as  Radcliff,  or  yearned  for  the  same 
variety  of  reality,  she  dismissed  him  to  seek  what  he 
wanted  elsewhere. 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  29 

34.  Radcliff  continued  his  Saturday  afternoon  pil- 
grimages to  the  candy  shop,  and  found  some  solace  for  a 
sore  and  turbulent  spirit  in  the  smiling  regard  of  Miss 
Mitty.  He  bought  innocuous  candies  himself,  now,  to 
present  to  the  children  of  his  college  chum,  with  whom  he 
had  begun  the  pleasing  practice  of  Sunday  dining.  The 
college  chum's  wife  had  a  sister  who  would  have  been 
somewhat  surprised  to  learn  that  her  first  attraction  in 
Mr.  Radcliff's  eyes  was  a  fancied  resemblance  to  Miss 
Mitty,  and  perhaps  a  slight  suggestion  of  the  girl  out  in 
Indiana,  with  her  husband  and  her  brood  of  children.  In 
time,  of  course,  he  came  to  think  that  there  was  no  one 
in  the  world  at  all  like  her,  and  to  believe  that  that  had 
been  his  firm  opinion  from  the  first. 


12-34.  Observe  the  management  of  the  transition  from  the 
opening  to  the  developing  action. — From  this  point  on  to  the  end 
of  part  one,  apply  S.  S.  M.,  183 :  9.  Are  Radcliff  and  Amy 
subordinate  persons  in  comparison  wth  Miss  Mitty?  Did  the 
author  intend  them  to  be?  Do  they  and  their  affairs  tend  to 
overshadow  Miss  Mitty  and  usurp  her  importance  in  the  series  of 
events? — The  manifest  function  of  part  one  is  to  illustrate  and 
enforce  the  thought,  that  the  little  Miss  Mittys  of  the  world  after 
all  do  influence  the  ages  hence.  Prepare  an  action  plot  (S.  S.  M., 
77:  D)  for  a  conte  (strict  meaning)  in  which  Radcliff  and  Amy 
shall  be  clearly  the  leading  persons,  the  struggle  being  that 
between  their  opposed  nature  and  'news,  Miss  Mitty  appearing 
but  incidentally,  though  precipitating  the  decisive  moment  or 
affording  the  decisive  impulse.  The  difference  will  be  that  the 
new  treatment  will  produce  a  true  short  story;  raise  Radcliff  and 
Amy  from  the  anomalous  position  in  which  now  they  are  subor- 
dinate persons  although  supplying  the  dramatic  material  and 
action ;  and  transform  the  basic  dramatic  action  from  that  of 
subordinate  persons  into  that  of  persons-in-chief — those  imme- 
diately and  directly  affected  by  the  outcome.  Observe  that  in  this 
reorganizaton  the  determining  fact  is  a  shift  in  emphasis,  begin- 
ning with  Miss  Mitty  and  extending  itself  to  all  the  elements  of 


30  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

11. 

35.  Miss  Mitty's  Saturday  afternoon  extravagances  did 
not  end  with  the  purchase  of  the  box  of  candy,  whicli  she 
bought  to  be  divided  between  her  landlady's  children,  the 
poor  old  lady  with  a  sweet  tooth  in  the  second-story  back 
room,  and  herself.  She  had  another,  which  she  had  be- 
gun to  permit  herself  about  a  year  before  the  time  when 
Radcliff  had  first  noticed  her. 

36.  As  she  walked  up  the  avenue  one  afternoon,  she 
had  noticed  for  the  first  time  a  tiny  flower  shop  tucked 
away  in  what  must  once  have  been  only  an  entrance  hall. 
Miss  Mitty  always  stopped  before  the  big  plate-glass  win- 
dows with  glorious  pots,  and  bushes,  and  vases  behind 
them,  and  glued  her  nose  to  the  broad  panes.  But  she 
would  never  have  had  the  temerity  to  enter  one  of  those. 
The  little  shop  was  different.    She  found  it  irresistible. 

37.  She  had  always  loved  flowers,  and  one  of  the 
never-to-be-realized  visions  that  she  cherished  was  of  her- 
self weeding  in  a  bright-colored  country  garden  patch.  On 
the  window  sill  of  her  fourth-story  bedroom,  she  coaxed 
geraniums  to  bloom,  and  even  once  succeeded  in  inducing 
a  sickly  sprig  of  mignonette  to  raise  its  head  from  a 
tiny  flowerpot.  But  the  cut  flowers  in  the  little  shop  called 
to  her,  and  she  entered  and  was  lost. 

38.  It  was  only  three  jonquils  that  she  carried  away — 

the  narrative.  Nor  could  the  new  story  be  entitled  "  Miss  Mitty 
and  the  Ages  Hence  " — Note  further  that  another  reorganization 
is  possible,  by  which  Miss  Mitty  can  be  kept  as  the  central  person, 
but  given  a  much  more  active  and  prominent  part  in  the  action 
and  outcome.  In  this  case,  the  emphasis  would  not  be  shifted 
from  Miss  Mitty;  rather  it  would  be  increased  by  making  her 
actively  and  awaredly  a  direct  participant. 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  31 

wrapped  up,  first,  in  oiled  paper,  and  then  in  Tvhitc — but 
it  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  period  in  her  existence. 
Now  that  her  tiny  cemetery  lot  was  paid  for,  now  that  her 
twenty-year  life-insurance  policy  had  fallen  due,  and  a 
whole  thousand  dollars  was  hers  to  live  on,  should  she  ever 
be  ill,  now  that  she  had  a  regular  clientele  for  which  to 
sew,  so  that  five  days  and  a  half  out  of  every  week  seemed 
assured  to  her  as  long  as  she  could  find  glasses  strong 
enough  to  enable  her  to  count  her  stitches,  why  should  she 
not  permit  herself  another  self-indulgence  ?  Why  should 
she  not,  selfishly,  piggishly,  buy  herself  a  Saturday  posy, 
to  keep  her  company  all  Saturday  evening,  while  she  read 
her  paper,  and  her  magazine,  and  her  Bible,  and  to  be 
waiting  to  welcome  her  when  she  came  home  from  church 
on  Sunday  morning? 

39.  ''  It  wouldn't  be  quite  like  looking  up  to  see  an 
old  mother  smiling  at  you,  or  coming  home  to  find  a  baby 
toddling  to  meet  you,  but  next  to  them,  I  don't  know  of 
a  thing  that  would  be  more  smiling  and  companionable- 
like.     I'm  going  to  do  it !  " 

40.  She  did  not  confide  all  this  to  Kate  Green,  who 
kept  the  little  shop,  until  much  later  in  their  acquaintance. 
In  the  first  place,  Kate  was  generally  busy  on  Saturday 
afternoons;  the  little  shop  in  which  she  had  invested  al- 
most all  the  small  inheritance  that  she  had  received  at  her 
mother's  death,  was  doing  very  well.  Kate  explained 
blithely  to  people  who  exclaimed  at  the  comparative  cheap- 
ness of  her  wares  that  her  rent  was  small  compared  to  that 
of  the  big  shops,  and  that  her  staff  was  correspondingly 
small.  Indeed,  there  would  not  have  been  room  in  the 
little  shop  for  any  more  or  any  larger  employees  than  the 
agile  small  boy  who  executed  Kate's  orders. 


32  Today's  Shout  Stories  Anai.yzkd 

41.  All  these  tliiiiiis  eoiiibined  to  iiiiike  the  venture  a 
success,  but  probahly  the  most  potent  factor  in  it  was 
Kate  herself;  Kate,  who  loved  flowers,  and  knew  bow  to 
care  for  them ;  Kate,  who  always  went  in  person  at  break 
of  day  to  the  flower  marts,  and  brought  back  with  her  at 
least  one  rarity  to  make  everyone  pause  in  front  of  her 
window  that  day;  Kate,  who  was  straiglit  and  strong- 
looking,  and  who  had  lovely  eyes,  and  lovely  hair,  and  a 
soft,  pulsating  color  in  her  round  cheeks. 

42.  "  Doesn't  anyone  ever  mistake  you  for  a  flower 
yourself?"  inquired  Mr.  Reginald  Ten  Eyck  pleasantly 
on  the  occasion  of  his  first  purchase,  twenty-five  dollars' 
worth  of  big  lilies  to  be  sent  to  the  Norwegian  actress  who 
was  doing  Ibsen  that  year  in  the  most  fascinating  broken 
English. 

43.  Kate  didn't  have  twenty-five  dollars'  worth  of  lilies 
in  the  place,  but  she  knew  where  she  could  get  the  rest. 
She  frowned  at  Mr.  Ten  Eyck's  complimentary  imper- 
tinence, although  Mr.  Ten  Eyck's  manner  always  robbed 
his  impertinences  of  some  of  their  offense.  She  answered 
him  somewhat  curtly. 

44.  "  jSTo  one  ever  mistakes  me  for  the  sort  of  person 
to  whom  he  may  be  rude,"  she  said. 

45.  A  great  wave  of  red  rolled  up  over  her  face  as 
she  said  it.  It  was  no  easy  matter  for  her  to  ''  put  a 
young  man  in  his  place,"  as  her  old  servant  at  home  had 
always  declared  it  was  necessary  to  do.  Mr.  Ten  Eyck 
laughed. 

46.  "A  hit,"  he  cried.  "A  very  palpable  hit!  You 
read  Shakespeare,  of  course  ?  " 

47.  Kate  frowned  again,  and  then  advanced  with  re- 
lief toward  a  new  customer  entering  the  shop.     But  Mr, 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  33 

Ten  Eyck,  who  had  ample  leisure,  and  who  would  have 
taken  it  if  he  had  not  already  possessed  it,  waited  until  the 
other  customer  had  been  served  and  had  departed. 

48.  "  I  only  stayed  to  apologize  to  you,"  he  assured 
her,  with  much  sincerity.  "  You  really  ought  to  read 
Shakespeare — he's  ripping!  I  dare  say  you  don't  believe 
me,  because  they  taught  you  that  in  school.  But  it's  the 
truth — it's  as  true  as  that  I'm  really  awfully  sorry  if  my 
freshness  annoyed  you.     Forgive  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

49.  Kate  couldn't  resist  him.  The  seyere  mask  had  to 
fall  away  from  her  face,  and  the  dimples  to  show. 

50.  "  I  forgive  you,"  she  said,  trying  to  make  the 
severity  of  her  voice  atone  for  the  leniency  of  her  face. 

51.  "  Shake  hands  on  it !  "  begged  Mr.  Ten  Eyck. 

52.  Kate  shook  hands  on  it — it  seemed  the  easiest  way 
to  get  rid  of  him.  But  she  scarcely  succeeded  in  doing 
that.  He  became  her  regular  customer ;  he  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  her  modest  success.  Two  and  three  times  a 
week  he  appeared  in  person  to  inspect  Kate's  stock,  to 
make  suggestions,  and  to  leave  the  most  extravagant 
orders.  In  addition  to  that,  he  sometimes  sent  his  man 
with  less  elaborate  instructions. 

53.  The  recipients  of  his  floral  attentions  were  many. 
Kate  used  to  curl  her  lip  as  she  took  some  of  the  addresses. 
In  the  beginning  she  had  really  almost  felt  the  scorn  that 
she  thought  it  necessary  to  show,  as  actress  after  actress, 
chorus  girl  after  chorus  girl,  appeared  and  disappeared 
upon  Mr.  Ten  Eyck's  list.  Later,  she  began  to  feel  a 
grudging  curiosity  about  them.  Was  it  pure  fickleness 
that  made  so  many  changes  in  the  names,  or  was  it  that 
the  exigencies  of  their  profession  made  New  York  their 
habitat  for  only  a  short  time  ? 


34  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

54.  She  took  to  scaiiiiiiii;'  the  iicwsjiapcrs  for  the  luuiu'S 
not  only  of  stars,  but  of  what  iiiiiilit  bo  called  the  niero 
electric  lights  of  the  theatres.  She  had  a  great  feeling  of 
relief  the  Monday  when  she  read  that  the  Norwegian 
interpreter  of  Ibsen  was  playing  her  last  six  evenings  and 
her  last  two  matinees  that  week. 

55.  About  the  decorous  addresses  on  Fifth  and  j\radi- 
son  Avenues,  and  the  blocks  between  them,  to  which  many 
of  Mr.  Ten  Eyck's  floral  tributes  were  sent,  she  felt  less 
curiosity,  less — she  did  not  call  it  so  to  herself — jealousy. 
"  Bread-and-butter  bouquets,"  Mr.  Ten  Eyck  himself 
named  the  flowers  that  went  to  those  houses,  and  Kate  took 
a  strange  and  alarming  comfort  in  the  saying.  Even  when 
he  came  into  the  shop  with  lovely  and  resplendent  ladies 
in  his  company,  and  presented  them  to  Kate  with  that  air 
of  friendliness,  all  unaware  of  class  distinctions,  that  was 
his  greatest  charm,  and  told  them  how,  if  they  wanted 
original  and  charming  decorations,  they  must  give  their 
orders  to  Miss  Green,  his  intimacy  with  those  ladies  did 
not  disturb  her.    He  never  brought  the  others. 

56.  There  came  a  day,  a  few  weeks  after  Miss  Mitty 
had  entered  upon  her  career  of  selfish  extravagance  in  the 
matter  of  flowers,  and  had  established  a  sort  of  friendship 
with  the  young  florist,  when  the  latter  was  compelled  to 
question  herself  concerning  the  feelings  that  she  cherished 
toward  Mr.  Ten  Eyck.  J^either  he  nor  his  man  had  been 
in  for  a  week.  Kate  had  read  the  society  notes  of  her 
morning  paper  assiduously,  but  had  discovered  nothing  of 
his  whereabouts  or  activities.  Cotillions  were  danced 
without  his  aid,  debutantes  made  their  bow  to  the  world 
without  his  congratulations,  chorus  girls  made  merry  with- 
out his  help.    Could  he  be  ill,  Kate  wondered.    She  almost 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  35 

had  it  in  her  thoughts  to  put  together  a  modest  bunch  of 
flowers,  and  to  send  it  in  a  plain  box  to  his  address.  But 
she  took  the  inclination  by  the  neck,  so  to  speak,  and 
shook  it. 

57.  "  Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses,  Kate 
Green  ?  "  she  asked  herself,  and  forthvs^ith  plunged  into 
plans  for  decorating  Mrs.  Montgomery's  dinner  table  on 
the  next  Friday. 

58.  It  was  a  wild,  blustery,  winter  day,  and  the  nar- 
row door  into  the  narrow  little  shop  seldom  opened.  The 
telephone  bell  rang  now  and  then,  and  orders  were  given 
without  inspection  of  the  flowers. 

59.  Kate's  assistant  had  gone  to  one  of  the  park  hotels 
with  a  bunch  of  violets  and  orchids  to  welcome  a  girl  just 
arriving  from  Chicago,  and  she  herself  was  alone  in  the 
shop,  W'hen  the  old-fashioned  bell  on  the  front  door  jan- 
gled, and  a  man  seemed  blown  into  the  little  room. 

60.  Kate  came  from  behind  the  desk  with  her  compe- 
tent saleswoman  air,  but  before  she  had  taken  four  steps 
into  the  store,  she  came  to  a  standstill.  It  was  her  chief 
customer,  Reginald  Ten  Eyck,  who  stood  still  near  the 
door,  staring  at  her  most  curiously.  She  did  not  know 
why  she  was  suddenly  stricken  motionless  by  the  look  of 
his  pale  face,  the  earnestness  of  his  gaze.  When  he  saw 
that  she  w^as  not  advancing,  Mr.  Ten  Eyck  took  a  few  steps 
forward  himself. 

61.  "  Have  you  missed  me  ?  "  he  demanded,  with  an 
attempt  at  his  usual  airy  manner. 

62.  Kate  made  a  clutch  after  her  own  accustomed  pose 
of  good  business  woman. 

63.  "  You  haven't  been  in  for  some  time,  have  you  ?  " 
she  said  pleasantly. 


3G  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

(U,  IIo  caiiu'  closer,  ami  stood  looking  down  at  licr, 
intent,  brooding,  yet  with  a  little  flicker  of  his  old  wliini- 
sicalness. 

05.  "  Ah,  Kate,  Kate !  And  do  you  know  why  I  have 
stayed  away  ?  " 

GO.  Kate  wanted  to  say  the  obvious  thing  about  his 
having  been  busy,  having  been  out  of  town,  needing  no 
flowers.  But  the  words  would  not  come.  She  stood  look- 
ing up  at  him,  and  in  her  ears  there  was  a  throbbing  that 
seemed  to  be  all  the  voices  of  the  world  saying  to  her : 

67.  "  And  this  is  love !  " 

68.  She  shook  her  head  in  answer  to  his  question. 

69.  "  I've  been  trying  to  see  how  it  would  feel  to  get 
on  without  seeing  you,"  announced  Reginald  Ten  Eyck. 
"  I  find  it  feels  like  hell.  I'll  amend  that  to  purgatory  if 
the  word  shocks  you."  He  stooped  and  suddenly  caught 
her  hands. 

70.  "  Kate,  Kate,  I  can't  stand  it !     Can  you  ?  " 

71.  Her  hands  imprisoned  in  his,  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
his  ardent  ones,  her  whole  being  in  subjection  to  the  new, 
sudden  force  that  had  taken  possession  of  her,  Kate  shook 
her  head.  She  didn't  want  to  stand  not  seeing  him !  His 
face  brightened  and  softened  wonderfully. 

72.  "  My  dear  girl !  My  dear,  truehearted  girl !  You 
shall  never  regret  it — you  shall  never  regret  being  sincere 
to  me,  I  swear  it!  A\'here  am  I  to  see  you?  Where  do 
you  live  ?  I  shall  come  and  take  you  to  dinner  tonight, 
and  afterward  you  wall  let  me  come  and  talk  to  you  in 
your  own  place." 

73.  The  front  door  opened,  and  the  messenger  returned 
from  the  hotel,  his  red,  outstanding  ears  nearly  blown 
from  bis  head.. 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  37 

74.  "  At  five  minutes  past  six  then/'  said  Ten  Eyck, 
releasing  her  liands. 

75.  The  door  closed  behind  him,  and  Kate,  dazed,  pal- 
pitant with  excitement  and  a  dreamy  happiness,  went  up 
behind  the  desk  again. 

76.  She  was  alone  again  in  the  shop  in  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  when  again  the  gale  seemed  to  blow  a  cus- 
tomer into  the  shop.  Kate  came  forward  slowly,  hating 
to  break  the  trance  in  which  she  was  spending  the  day. 
But  when  she  recognized  Miss  Mitty's  funny  little  face, 
red,  and  frost-nipped,  and  watery-eyed  from  the  bufPet- 
ings  of  the  wind,  she  smiled  in  friendly  fashion. 

77.  "  This  isn't  your  regular  day  ?  "  she  said. 

78.  Miss  Mitty,  recovering  her  windblown  breath  with 
a  final  gasp,  looked  up  with  shy  pleasure. 

79.  "  And  have  you  really  noticed  that  I  only  come  on 
Saturdays  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  call  that  very  friendly  of  you. 
I  don't  hold  with  this  notion,  at  all,  of  ISTew  York's  not 
being  a  friendly  place.  People  are  pretty  much  as  you 
take  'em  all  the  world  over,  is  my  belief.  Well,  Saturday 
is  my  usual  day.  It's  the  only  afternoon  I'm  not 
sewing,  or  engaged  to  sew.  But  the  lady  where  I'm 
working  today,  Mrs.  Miller,  over  on  Broadway,  near 
Ninety-sixth,  she's  expecting  her  mother  tonight  from  the 
country,  and  she  was  trying  to  find  some  sweet  peas  to  put 
in  her  mother's  room.  It  seems  her  mother  has  a  garden 
up  where  she  lives,  and  is  awful  fond  of  flowers,  and  can't 
abide  flats.  And  so  Mrs.  Miller — but  you  understand 
all  that.  She  couldn't  find  any  sweet  peas  up  near  her 
place,  and  when  I  told  her  about  you, '  and  how  you'd 
surely  have  'em  if  they  were  in  the  market,  she  asked  me 
to  come  down  and  see.    That's  how  it  happens." 


38  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

80.  "  There  were  almost  none  in  the  market  ihis  morn- 
ing/' said  Kate.  "  So  many  of  the  trains  were  late  on 
aceount  of  the  blizzard.  But  I  got  two  or  three  bunches, 
and,  with  some  lilies  of  the  valley  and  mignonette,  they'd 
make  quite  a  gardeny  showing." 

81.  She  was  busy  sliding  the  glass  doors  of  her  cases 
back  and  forth. 

82.  "It's  just  what  I  told  Mrs.  Miller,"  cried  Miss 
Mitty,  in  a  rapture  of  self-satisfaction  and  satisfaction 
with  Kate.  "  I  said  that  if  you  didn't  have  sweet  peas, 
you'd  have  something  that  would  make  her  mother  think 
of  a  garden.  I  told  her — I  hope  you'll  excuse  my  saying 
it — that  you  looked  like  a  girl  whose  mother  had  had  a 
garden.     She  did  now,  didn't  she  ?  " 

83.  Miss  Mitty's  voice  yearned  for  corroboration. 

84.  "  Yes,"  said  Kate  shortly  and  in  a  low  voice. 

85.  She  was  busying  herself  with  the  arrangement  of 
the  flowers.     Miss  Mitty  eyed  her  sympathetically. 

86.  "  1  hope  you've  got  her  with  you,"  she  ventured 
a  little  diffidently.  "  Mine  died  when  I  was  a  baby,  and 
that's  more  than  forty  years  ago.  I  caii't  tell  you  what 
I'd  give  to  have  an  old  mother  to  do  for.    I  think  it  would 

be  the  sweetest  thing,  next  to  having  a  baby "     She 

broke  off  with  a  little  laugh  that  was  full  of  pathos. 
"  Ain't  I  an  old  fool  to  be  talking  about  babies  ?  Why,  I 
never  even  had  a  beau !  " 

87.  Kate  looked  at  her  with  tragic  eyes.  She  did  not 
know  yet  what  the  garrulous  little  woman  had  done.  She 
only  knew  that  the  heavy  warmth  and  sweetness  of  the 
trance  that  had  enveloped  her  since  morning  was  dissi- 
pated, gone,  and  that  she  was  obliged  to  see  the  world 
again  instead  of  the  hazy  dream.     And  in  the  foreground 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence  39 

of  that  world  there  was  a  country  garden,  outside  a  little, 
white-painted  cottage.  And  among  the  pinks  and  the  sweet 
peas,  the  brave  blue  bachelors'  buttons,  and  the  white 
phloxes,  there  moved  a  bent  figure  in  a  sunbonnet.  From 
out  of  the  shadows  of  that  sunbonnet  a  pair  of  dark  eyes 
followed  Kate  with  adoring  pride. 

88.  "  Tommy,"  cried  Kate,  when  the  door  had  been 
closed  long  upon  Miss  Mitty,  "  I'm  sick.  I'm  going  home. 
There  probably  won't  be  anyone  in  to  buy  anything  on 
such  an  afternoon.  If  any  orders  come,  call  for  messenger 
boys  to  take  them.    Do  the  best  you  can  for  me.  Tommy, 


35-92.  In  general  construction,  part  two  is  much  like  part  one 
— character  sketching  at  the  first,  merging  off  into  plotted  nar- 
ration of  action  by  the  secondary,  or  ancillary,  persons.  Like 
part  one,  part  two  can  readily  be  reeonsti-ucted ;  for  example, 
thus:  Pars.  35-39,  omitted.  Sentences  1-2  of  40  recast  to  read, 
"  Kate  Green  kept  the  little  flower  shop.  She  was  generally  busy 
on  .  .  ."  Up  to  par.  76,  no  other  changes.  Pars.  76-87  dis- 
placed by  new  material,  showing  how  Kate  suddenly  realized  that 
she  was  about  to  yield  merely  to  emotion,  that  Ten  Eyck  was  still 
merely  the  raw,  unworked  substance  of  manhood,  and  that  their 
love  was  likely  to  prove  their  ruin  instead  of  their  happiness 
unless  he  should  be  developed  into  an  industrious,  purposeful 
man.  Then  pars.  88  to  end  as  they  now  stand,  except  for  the 
minor  changes  necessary  to  adapt  them  to  the  substituted  part  of 
the  narrative. — So  modified,  part  two  becomes  an  independent 
narrative,  as  was  the  ease  also  with  part  one. — But  part  two  can 
likewise  be  reconstructed  another  way,  like  part  one;  i.e.,  with  Miss 
Mitty  brought  more  importantly  and  dominantingly  into  the  ac- 
tion, and  made  the  determining  actor  as  well  as  merely  (what  she 
is  at  present)  a  chance  influence  working  its  effect  from  outside 
the  dramatic  events. — Finally,  we  may  recast  as  first  above 
directed  as  far  as  par.  76,  then — for  the  first  time — introduce 
some  such  person  as  Miss  Mitty,  briefly  and  summarily  charac- 
terized, let  her  converse  to  the  same  effect  as  at  present,  and  exit ; 
and  so  take  up  the  original  narrative  again  wthout  change  from 


40  Today's  Shokt  Stories  Analyzed 

niid  iKtn't  ttll  niiyoue  where  I  live,  if  anyone  asks  you. 
Mind,  now !  " 

89.  Two  years  later,  Miss  Mitty  was  surprised  to  be 
one  of  the  tiny  handful  of  guests  invited  to  the  wedding 
of  Kate  Green  and  Reginald  Ten  Eyck.  It  was  a  very 
quiet  wedding,  except  for  the  jovial  declaration  of  the 
elder  Mr.  Ten  Eyck  to  the  effect  that  nothing  in  his  life 
had  given  him  so  much  satisfaction. 

90.  "'  She's  made  a  man  of  him,"  he  assured  his  sister, 
who  had  sustained  herself  through  the  ceremony  with 
smell ino;  salts.      "  He's  told  me  all  about  it.     Wouldn't 


par.  88  forward.  This  will  accompUsh  for  part  two  the  inci- 
dental introduction  of  Miss  Mitty  (or  her  plot  equivalent),  such 
as  was  suggested  also  for  part  one. — By  noting  these  quite  prac- 
tical and  practicable  recasts,  and  working  them  out  clearly  in 
rewritten  narratives,  the  student  will  gain  increased  comprehen- 
sion of  the  method  of  the  present  piece  of  narration  and  of  the 
management  of  plots  and  plot  materials  (especially  plot  inci- 
dents) in  general. 

The  following  facts  will  also  be  illuminative :  That  in  part  one, 
exposition  of  the  plot  (disregarding  the  character  sketching  of 
Miss  Mitty)  begins  with  par.  12;  that  Miss  Mitty  is  the  com- 
plicating influence  and  her  appearance  the  generating  circum- 
stance; and  that  this  circumstance  therefore  enters  in  the  first 
sentence  directly  concerned  with  the  plot  of  the  episode.  The 
critical  period  rises  to  the  decisive  moment  in  pars.  29-33,  and  the 
falling  action  and  outcome  are  found  in  34.  Then :  That  in  part 
two  exposition  (disregarding  the  character  sketching)  begins  with 
par.  40 ;  that  the  critical  period  begins  with  the  remark  of  Ten 
Eyck  (generating  cii'cumstanee)  in  par.  42,  reaching  its  first 
climactic  height  in  56-57  and  its  grand  climactic  and  decisive 
moment  in  the  detailed  incident  (retarded  movement)  of  60-75; 
that  preparation  begins  in  par.  76  for  the  threatened  reversal  of 
this  decision,  culminating  in  pars.  86-88  with  what  seems  a  second 
decisive  moment,  reversing  the  earlier  one  (anticipatory  delay; 
S.  S.  M.,  74,  footnote);  that  there  is  a  third  period  of  balanced 


Miss  Mitty  and  the  x\ges  Hence  41 

flirt  with  him,  wouldn't  go  about  with  him,  wouldn't  have 
a  damned  thing  to  do  with  him,  in  short,  until  he  pro- 
posed in  due  form,  and  declared  that  he'd  defy  the  whole 
family  rather  than  give  her  up.  And  she  wouldn't  have 
a  thing  to  do  with  that,  either,  though  she  told  him  that 
she  would  have  no  scruples  about  the  family  part  of  it. 
But  she  wouldn't  marry  a  trifler,  an  idler.  Well,  you 
know  how  Reggie  hustled  around  and  got  a  job,  and  how, 
by  heck,  he  has  seemed  to  like  it  better  than  all  his  loafing ! 
She's  made  a  man  of  him.     I'm  proud  of  her. 

91.    "  Oh,  stop  your  drivel  about  a  saleswoman  on  the 
avenue !      They're  going  to   run  the   shop    still ;   they'll 


decision,  or  suspense — i.e.,  resistant  delay — buried  in  the  two 
years  the  action  of  which  is  summarized  in  the  three  pars,  of 
outcome  (89-91),  in  which  time  Ten  Eyck  was  demonstrating  his 
real  manhood;  and  that  par.  92  is  a  formal  philosophical  close. — 
Reviewing  this  analysis  of  the  two  plots,  we  see  Miss  Mitty  as  the 
determining  mfiuenee  in  each,  in  one  appearing  as  the  generating 
circumstance  and  continuing  as  the  exciting  cause,  and  in  the 
other  appearing  as  the  detei'mining  element  that  threatens  to 
reverse  the  outcome  promised  by  the  decisive  moment  (pars. 
76-88),  and  thus  sei^ving  as  the  generating  cause  to  protract  the 
struggle  after  the  decisive  moment  and  actually'  modifying  the 
nature  of  the  outcome  as  finally  revealed.  Theoretically,  there- 
fore, the  narrative  as  a  whole  seems  to  have  its  unity  secured  by 
means  of  a  central  person.  But  we  saw  (introductory  notes) 
that  in  some  ways  the  totality  of  effect  is  lacking  (S.  S.  M., 
180:4).  The  reason  for  this  is,  that  this  central  person  is  not 
the  dominant  person  in  the  three  phases  of  plot,  action,  and 
characterization  (S.  S.  M.,  181:5).  The  moral  is,  that  unity  is 
not  a  matter  of  theoretical  procedure  so  much  as  it  is  of  thorough 
integration,  inter-working,  and  complete  inter-relation  and  subor- 
dination of  all  the  story  materials  (S.  S.  M.,  168:25-27;  104: 
24-29;  166:23,  "integration"). — Objection  to  these  conclusions 
may  be  raised  on  the  ground  that  there  is  unified  effect  at  the  end. 
Closer  examination  will  probably  reveal,  however,  that  this  unified 


42  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

supi^ly  it  from  the  greenhouses  up  on  the  farm.  Fine  girl, 
pliR'ky  little  woman!  I  tell  you  what,  I'm  proud  of  my 
son  and  danglitoi' — I'll  wager  I'll  have  cause  to  he  proud 
of  my  grandchildren  !  " 

92.  But  Miss  Mitty,  in  her  modesty,  never  dreams  that 
she,  for  all  her  loneliness,  for  all  her  lack  of  ties,  has  in- 
fluenced the  "  ages  hence  "  of  which  she  sometimes  wist- 
fully dreams ;  and  that  it  is  not  alone  possessions,  even  the 
sacred  possession  of  dear  responsibilities,  that  influence 
the  generations  yet  unborn,  the  centuries  yet  to  be;  but 
that  these  depend  upon  the  vision  that  each  one  of  us  car- 
ries in  his  heart. 


impression  results  mainly  from  episode  two,  supplemented  by  the 
impression  of  Miss  Mitty  created  in  the  characterizing  opening 
(pars.  1-11),  and  that  episode  one  (pars.  12-34)  has  made  slight 
impression  on  us,  because  we  must  forget  it  in  order  to  enter  into 
episode  two  with  undivided  attention. 


m  THE  MATTER  OF  DISTANCE 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  The  form  of  opening  and  close  employed,  show  this 
story  to  be  clearly  a  theme  story.  The  theme  is  most  di- 
rectly put  in  the  closing  paragraph  (the  terms  used  are 
symbolical). 

2.  In  conceiving  the  story,  the  author  has  apparently 
begun  with  a  theme,  has  then  imagined  a  situation  proper 
to  this  theme,  selecting  persons  and  constructing  a  plot  to 
develop  this  situation  through  consistent  action  to  an  out- 
come illustrative  of  the  theme. 

3.  As  the  theme  is  illustrated  by  showing  a  single  trait 
of  human  nature  at  work  in  the  two  chief  persons,  the 
story  becomes  a  character  story  as  well  as  a  theme  story. 
But  because  this  trait  is  found  in  all  sorts  of  persons,  the 
individuality  of  the  two  chief  actors  must  not  be  devel- 
oped in  detail,  lest  their  individuality  obscure  this  domi- 
nant trait.  Accordingly  the  emphasis  is  thrown  instead 
on  this  trait  of  human  nature  common  to  them,  and  as 
persons  they  are  differentiated  but  broadly,  not  minutely. 
This  fact  accounts  for  the  introduction  of  the  minimum 
amount  only  of  individual  character  portrayal.  Yet 
enough  is  given  to  present  to  us  two  distinct  personalities ; 
we  can  even  perceive  hints  of  the  temperament  element  of 
character.     Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  208  :  2  ;  218,  note. 

4.  Again:  The  author,  having  started  from  a  definite 
theme,  and  being  thereby  led  to  employment  of  a  single 
character  trait  as  the  source  of  the  motivating  impulse, 

43 


44  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

found  himself  as  a  consequence,  when  he  came  to  con- 
struct his  plot,  taking  this  character  trait  as  his  starting- 
point.  This  led  him  to  employ  the  method  of  S.  S.  M.,  218 
(A)  and  218:  5  in  constructing  his  plot. 

5.  The  story  is  exceedingly  compact.  Test  this  by 
trying  to  find  parts  that  can  be  omitted  without  turning 
the  story  into  bare  skeleton.     See  S.  S.  M.,  251. 

6.  The  exposition  is  distributed,  not  massed  (S.  S.  M., 
79:  1-5)  ;  and  it  is  suggested  rather  than  told. 

7.  The  story  is  somewhat  unusual  in  having  two  per- 
sons as  the  central  figure ;  for  after  movement  2,  the  two 
may  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  twin-aetor  person,  playing 
a  single  part.  In  movements  1  and  2,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  have  duplicated  action  with  different  actors;  in  move- 
ment 2,  the  same  action  takes  place  afifecting  O'Brien  that 
took  place  in  movement  1  with  Whiteside. 

8.  The  plot  is  thoroughly  successful  in  coming  to  a 
head  in  the  decisive  moment;  S.  S.  M.,  94:  5-  (6,  8). 

9.  The  opening  exemplifies  S.  S.  M.,  135  :  21. 

10.  The  passage  over  from  the  opening  to  the  first 
movement  is  suggestive  of  method;  cf.  S.  S.  M.,  151:  1. 

11.  The  sequence  is  the  time  sequence  (S.  S.  M.,  153: 
5-7),  except  that  movement  2  takes  place  cotemporaneously 
with  movement  1.     Study  this  management. 

12.  The  story  observes  the  unities  of  action,  time, 
person  (see  note  7,  just  above),  and  theme;  S.  S.  M., 
178:  1-15. 

13.  The  story  makes  skillful  use  of  dialogue ;  S.  S.  M., 
229 :  1-2  ;  230 :  4 ;  232  :  6  ;  234 :  9-12.  In  its  dialect,  it 
observes  the  principles  of  S.  S.  M.,  248 :  12. 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  DISTANCE 

By  John  Bakton  Oxford 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from  "  The 

Red  Book  "  for  June,  1914. 

(Copyrighted,  1914) 

1.  From  West  Cherry  ^  Street  to  Beverly  Avenue,  as  the 
crow  flies,  is  perhaps  a  mile  and  a  half ;  by  devious  streets 
and  avenues — up  Middlesex,  down  Crawford,*  .along  the 
entire  length  of  Westmoreland  Avenue — it  is  considerably 
over  two  miles;  but,  if  you  are  judging  by  standards, 
social,  intellectual,  and  ethical,  a  good  half  the  circum- 
ference of  the  earth  lies  between  West  Cherry  Street  and 
Beverly  Avenue.^ 

2.  West  Cherry  Street  is  noisy,  unclean,  dilapidated, 
out-at-the-elbows ;  Beverly  Avenue — isn't/  In  West 
Cherry  Street  swarms  of  noisy  youngsters,  left  to  their  own 


1.  *  Study  the  employment  here  of  place  names  to  give  the  im- 
pression of  place  atmosphere.  What  is  shadowed  forth  in  these 
names  is  put  into  du'ect  description  in  par.  2. 

'Theme  is  important  in  this  story;  the  motif  is,  "Brothers 
under  the  skin."  One  touch  of  nature — human  nature — makes 
two  men,  of  quite  unlike  social  status,  akin  in  their  behavior  in 
like  circumstances.  Contrast  balanced  against  fundamental  like- 
ness in  one  single  trait,  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  effect  of  the 
story.  This  sentence  effectually  presents  a  forecast  of  the  con- 
trast involved. 

2.  '  "  Beverly  Avenue — isn't."  Why  is  this  way  of  making  the 
comparison  more  effective  than  an  enumeration  of  details  would 
be? 

45 


46  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

devices,  amuse  themselves  with  hazardous  games  which  en- 
tail much  swiftness  and  much  keenness  of  eye  to  avert 
their  untimel}'  ends  beneath  the  wheels  of  passing  drays; 
the  children  of  Beverly  Avenue — far  less  in  number  than 
those  of  West  Cherry  Street,  although  Beverly  Avenue  is 
a  much  longer  thoroughfare — amuse  themselves  much 
more  sanely  and  safely  and  without  the  shrill,  car-splitting 
whoops  of  the  West  Cherryites,  because  they  are  carefully 
herded  by  trim  and  white-capped  nurse-maids  whose  keen 
eyes  are  solely  for  their  small  charges — unless  one  of  the 
good-looking  young  mounted  policemen  happens  along. 

3.    The  property  owners  ^  of  Beverly  Avenue  and  the 
humble  rent-payers  ^   of  West   Cherry   Street,   you   may 


A  descriptive  paragraph,  amplifying  the  hint  of  contrast  given 
in  par.  1.  Note  its  concentrative,  or  intensifying,  value 
(S.  S.  M.,  109:33-34).  Note  also  that  it  manages  to ^imply  a 
comment  on  social  differences  as  they  affect  children.  This  par- 
ticular aspect  of  social  differences  is  used  because  two  children 
constitute  one  of  the  chief  dependencies  for  motivating  the  con- 
duct of  the  two  men.  Observe  further  how  the  details  continue 
the  effect  of  place  atmosphere.  To  what  extent  does  the  men- 
tion of  the  nurse-maids  and  the  mounted  policemen  constitute 
description  of  scene?  Is  this  its  purpose? — Is  there  irony  or 
satire  anywhere  in  the  paragraph? 

3.  '  Observe  the  reiteration  of  the  contrast  by  means  of  the  pair? 
of  contrasting  terms.  Note  especially  the  emphasis  on  distance; 
the  motif  is  (to  repeat  it),  Socially  remote,  humanly  near. — 
*  The  three  paragraphs  have  emphasized  the  apparent  contrast 
— the  unlikeness  (seen  mostly  in  externals)  in  social  rank, 
wealth,  and  the  like.  The  last  sentence  now,  with  a  sudden 
reversal,  brings  us  up  with  a  jerk  to  face  the  thought  that  all 
these  measures  of  distance  may  be  useless  or  untrue  in  certain 
circumstances.  It  thus  makes  sure  of  our  attention. — pars.  1. 
2,  3.  Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  122-151,  passim.  A  live,  interest-getting 
opening.  It  hints  at  the  motif  and  strikes  the  keynote  of  the 
narration.     In   this   story,   the  tone  of  narration   is  determined 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  47 

readily  surmise,  are  not  at  all  the  same  breed  of  cats. 
West  Cherry  Street  ^  is  West  Cherry  Street,  and  Beverly 
Avenue  ^  is  Beverly  Avenue,  and  there  you  are !  They 
are  a  mile  and  a  half  distant,^  two  miles  apart,^  twelve- 
thousand-odd  miles  removed  ^ — just  whichever  way  you 
happen  to  compute  it.  And  sometimes  none  of  these  reck- 
onings apply  and  you  have  to  compute  that  distance  on  an 
entirely  new  basis.^     For  instance : 

4.  A  limousine  rolled  away  from  ISTumber  684  Bev- 
erly Avenue.  It  was  a  six-cylinder  limousine  of  an 
ultra-expensive  make.  Its  brass  glistened;  its  polished 
sides  shone;  there  was  a  big  bunch  of  orchids  in 
the  flower-holder  just  behind  the  liveried  chauffeur's 
back. 

5.  In  the  limousine  were  Mr.  Malcom  Whiteside  and 
his  son-in-law,  Robert  Whittleby.  Mr.  Robert  Whittleby 
had  said  just  before  entering  the  car: 


largely  by  the  author's  attitude — genial  and  amused  satire, 
gradually  deepening  into  earnest  human  sympathy.  In  so  far 
as  the  opening  indicates  the  social  rank  of  the  two  men  who 
appear  later,  it  is  expository,  since  this  difference  in  status  is 
part  of  the  precedent  facts  on  which  the  theme-development,  by 
means  of  the  action,  depends. — Observe  how  description  (with 
flashes  of  narration)  is  made  to  take  the  place  of  a  philosophical 
"  overture."     Cf.  the  last  paragraph  of  the  story. 

4.  This  paragraph  presents  the  setting  in  which  the  first  move- 
ment of  the  rising  action  will  take  place;  the  details  mentioned 
have  been  chosen  for  their  atmosphere  value.  Note  the  economy 
of  detail  and  the  swiftness  of  the  description.  Note  also  how 
the  setting  is  placed  before  the  beginning  of  the  action;  is  this 
a  fortunate  placing?    Cf.  S.S.  M.,  165-167. 

5.  Introduces  one  of  the  leading  and  one  of  the  supporting 
actors.  Why  is  no  description  of  Whiteside's  dress  needed? 
(Cf.  par.  25). 


48  TonAv's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

6.  "  To  the  White  Star  Docks,  William!  " 

7.  As  he  said  it,  iMr.  Malcom  Whiteside  had  hitched 
uneasily  ^  on  the  cushions  and  turned  to  look  anxiously  at 
a  certain  window  in  the  big  house  where  the  shades  were 
pulled  do\\ai.  lie  had  turned  back  to  say  to  his  son-in- 
law: 

8.  "  Now  if  1  thoufjht  Elizabeth " 

9.  Whereupon  Mr.  Robert  Whittleby  had  interrupted 
him  wath : 

10.  "  Oh,  don't  let  that  worry  you.  The  kid's  all 
right.  I  think  myself  it's  measles,  despite  what  the  doctor 
says.     Anyway,  it's  nothing  at  all  serious.     If  you  don't 


6-7.  What  is  gained  by  introducing  this  speech  here?  Could  the 
expository  fact  be  so  well  presented  elsewhere?  Why  not,  for 
instance,  in  par.  10,  "If  you  don't  get  this  ocean  liner?" — Is 
anything  gained  by  using  direct  speech?  Substitute  for  dialogue 
this  narrative  sentence :  "  They  were  on  their  way  to  the  White 
Star  Docks."  Does  this  sentence  together  with  par.  7,  show  that 
Whiteside  was  too  much  occupied  to  pay  attention  to  their 
starting?—'  Mood  hint  (S.  S.  M.,  257). 

8.  Although  the  exposition  is  not  complete,  the  action  has  now 
begun. — See  S.  S.  M.,  229-231;  the  dialogue  is  now  presenting 
expository  fact. — Par.  7  hints  at  the  (first)  complication;  this 
speech  begins  to  give  the  hint  definiteness. 

9-10.  "  Interrupted." — Here  the  interrupting  speech  has  three 
functions.  First,  it  represents  the  readiness  of  younger  persons  to 
treat  lightly  the  fears  of  the  old  (charaeterizaton — a  trait  of 
human  nature).  Second,  it  contrasts  the  father's  lack  of  worry 
with  the  grandfather's  deep  concern.  Third,  it  rapidly  unfolds 
the  situation  (exposition),  completing  the  first  discovery  of  the 
inciting  impulse  (S.  S.  M.,  89:8). — 'The  complication  is  now 
revealed,  so  far  as  Whiteside  is  involved — his  desire  to  stay  with 
the  grand-daughter,  against  his  desire  to  attend  his  son's  wed- 
ding.— '  Complication  given  weight  and  seriousness  by  means  of 
consequential  exposition  (S.  S.  M.,  171  ff.;  231). — 'Intensifying 
speech ;  intensifies  motive  by  consequential  exposition  ( S.  S.  M., 
171-173,  231). — *  Action  advanced  by  this  speech  (see  par.  11). 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  49 

get  this  boat  you  can't  make  Ned's  wedding/  and  he'd 
never  forgive  you."  You've  delayed  quite  long  enough 
on  that  kid's  account  already."  ^  And  then  to  the 
chauffeur:  ''  All  right,  William!  "  * 

11.  The  powerful  engine  purred  softly;  away  went  the 
car,  with  Mr.  Malcom  Whiteside  lifting  his  hat  and  wav- 
ing a  hand  ^  to  the  little  group  on  the  front  porch.  But 
as  the  limousine  swept  from  the  flower-bordered  drive  into 
the  Avenue/  his  gray  head  ^  was  twisted  about  to  catch  a 
last  glimpse  at  that  window  with  the  down-drawn  shades, 
and  again  he  was  moving  uneasily  on  the  cushions  and 
looking  very  worried.* 

12.  "  I  hate  to  leave  with  Elizabeth  ill  as  she  is,"  he  re- 
marked again. 

13.  Mr.  Whittleby  laughed  lightly.  "  Man,  dear,  that 
precious  infant  isn't  made  of  sugar  or  salt.  A  little  rise  in 
temperature  and  a  bit  of  a  headache  and  the  attendant 
querulousness  doesn't  signify  anything  particular.  I'll 
warrant  she'll  be  as  good  as  new  by  tomorrow  morning; 
and  even  if  she  isn't,  she'll  have  quite  as  good  care  if  you 


11.  The  action  is  rising  through  anticipatory  suspense  (cf. 
anticipatory  delay,  S.  S.  M.,  75). 

*  Amounts,  indirectly,  to  class  characterization,  since  it  is  be- 
havior conformable  to  persons  of  the  wealthy  social  class. — ^  Our 
feeling  of  the  environment  of  culture  and  wealth  is  preserved  by 
such  passing  introduction  of  suggestive  detail. — ^  The  first  hint  of 
Whiteside's  appearance.  In  a  few  phrases,  set  down  your  own 
conception  of  his  appearance. — *  Emphasis  on  the  complication ; 
a  literary  "  lest-we-forget "  device.  This  and  other  phrases  con- 
tain mood  hints  (S.  S.  M.,  257) ;  cf.  par.  12. 

12-13.  Largely  intensifying  in  effect. — Is  Whittleby  a  little  in- 
different in  his  attitude  toward  Whiteside?  Tolerant?  "Bossy?" 
Cf.  the  characterizing  passages  involving  him  in  pars.  9,  10,  16, 
17,  20,  21,  24.    Then^cf.  par.  22. 


50  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

are  on  your  way  to  Eiiiilaiul  on  the  last  boat  that  will  get 
you  there  in  time  for  Ned's  wedding  as  if  you  were  right 
•here  at  home  with  her." 

14.  Mr.  Whiteside  nodded  his  handsome  ^  gray  head. 

15.  *'  Of  course.  Bob,  of  course,"  he  said  quickly/  but 
he  said  it  as  if  he  did  not  in  the  least  believe  it. 

16.  There  was  silence  for  a  time,  during  which  the 
streets  shot  past  and  Mr.  Whiteside's  face  became  appre- 
hensive again.    Bob  Whittleby,  noticing  it,  grinned. 

17.  "  Say,"  he  asked,  "  did  you  fuss  over  any  of  your 
own  like  this?     I'll  bet  you  anything  you  didn't." 

18.  Mr.  "Whiteside  looked  at  his  son-in-law  with  re- 
proachful dignity.^ 

19.  "  There  weren't  any  of  them  like  her,"  ^  he  said 


14.  *  Second  item  of  personal  appearance.  Did  you  need  to  be 
told  that  Whiteside  is  handsome,  or  had  you  guessed  it?     How? 

15.  ^ "  Quickly " ;  this  adverb  is  what  gives  characterizing 
effectiveness  to  the  speech. 

17.  Characterizing;  plausibh;  younger  folk  are  wont  to  chaff 
(or  to  chide)  grandparents  for  doting  on  their  grandchildren. 
The  speech  is  concentrative,  also. 

18.  Most  grandfathers  would  do  the  same.  Observe  that  White- 
side and  O'Brien  are  portrayed  in  this  story  as  typical  of  all 
grandfathers.  Therefore,  we  have  class  characterization,  with  a 
minimum  of  individual  traits.  Observe  further  that  in  this  story 
the  class  resemblance  depends  on  a  common  human  trait.  Usually, 
the  class  resemblance  springs  from  some  direct  influence  of  occu- 
pation, association,  or  long-accepted  class  standards.  See  S.  S.  M., 
206-214. — '  Note  the  effectiveness  of  "  reproachful  dignity  "  in 
hitting  off  Whiteside's  attitude — another  plausibility-touch  like 
that  in  par.  17.  It  characterizes  by  indicating  (a)  the  person's 
mood,  (b)  his  manner  in  that  mood,  and  (c)  the  behavior  common 
to  many  gi'andfathers  in  such  a  situation. 

19.  '  A  neat  piece  of  characterizing  dialogue ;  exactly  what  the 
fond  grandparent  is  wont  to  think,  and  also  to  say  when  he  is 
naive — as   Whiteside   is.      Its   unconscious   trueness    "  to   form " 


In  the  Mattee,  of  Distance  51 

firmly.    "  She's  so  different  from  most  children — so  quaint 
in  her  ideas  and  her  mental  processes." 

20.  Whittleby's  grin  broadened. 

21.  "  Of  course,"  was  all  he  said. 

22.  Robert  Whittleby  was  a  very  discerning  as  well 
as  a  clean-cut  normal  sort  of  chap. 

23.  "  Well,  she  is  different,"  said  her  grandfather  with 
some  heat. 

24.  But  Whittleby's  only  answer  was  to  pass  over  a 
long  cigar  and  to  strike  a  match  and  hold  it  in  obsequious 
readiness. 


makes  it  humorous;  a  competent  actor  speaking  it  on  the  stage, 
would  get  a  good  laugh  out  of  it  surely. — The  rest  of  the  speech 
is  more  individualized — represents  Whiteside  the  individualized 
grandfather.     S.  S.  M.,  217:4  (3)   and   (4). 

20-21.  These  paragraphs  manage  to  characterize  "Whittleby  fur- 
ther, and  at  the  same  time  to  make  his  behavior  and  words  amount 
to  amused  comment  on  Whiteside.  (Thus  the  author  keeps  him- 
self out  of  the  story.)  They  illustrate,  too,  how  emotional  appeal 
(S.  S.M.,  63  ff.)  can  be  made  sure  without  any  direct  address 
to  the  reader.  What  Whittleby  does  and  says  is  just  what  the 
reader  is  ready  to  do  and  say — to  grin  and  remark :  "  Of  course  " 
in  good-humored  irony. 

22.  Brief,  direct  interpretation  of  Whittleby  by  the  author. 
Observe,  however,  that  it  has  a  larger  function  in  the  story :  it 
amounts  to  further  reinforcement  of  our  estimate  of  Whiteside, 
and  is  thus  of  the  nature  of  intensifying  comment. — Observe  fur- 
ther that  but  one  (temporarily)  dominant  trait  is  emphasized  in 
characterizing  Whiteside,  but  that  several  traits,  none  dominant, 
are  portrayed  in  Whittleby.  Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  181 :  5;  207:  E,  F,  G; 
215:2  (first  5  sentences);  218 :  A.  The  shorter  the  story,  the 
less  opportunity  there  is  to  treat  any  but  the  dominant  trait  in 
the  leading  person.  Of  the  secondary  person,  Whittleby,  we 
are  given  nothing  more  than  hints. 

23-24.  Climactic  height  of  first  movement  of  the  rising  action. 
Note  that  the  dialogue  and  action,  to  the  very  end,  continue  to 
characterize. 


52  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

25.  Even  as  the  six-cvlindor  and  ultra-rxpcnsive  limou- 
sine was  speeding  doAni  Beverly  Avenue,  Michael  O'Brien, 
accompanied  by  his  daughter,  ]\frs.  Timothy  Hennessey, 
came  out  of  the  doorway  of  Number  46  West  Cherry 
Street.  JMichael  O'Brien's  big  frame  ^  was  almost  pain- 
fully arrayed  ^  in  clothes  of  a  very  obvious  ne"v\mess.'  Also 
for  once  there  was  a  stiff  collar  encircling  his  neck.  He 
carried  a  bulging  suit-case  and  Mrs.  Hennessey  bore  *  a 
bundle  swathed  in  much  brown  paper  and  many,  many 
yards  of  stout  twine. 


25.  Here  begins  the  second  movement  of  the  rising  action — the 
third  division  of  this  story.  Note  the  connective  clause  with 
which  it  begins. — Observe  how  the  opening  (pars.  1-3),  by  taxing 
a  description  of  West  Cherry  Street  in  our  mind,  has  cleared 
the  way  for  rapid  action  at  the  beginning  of  movement  3  (the 
same  is  true  of  movement  2). — Observe  also  how  the  contrast 
enforced  in  the  opening  is  now  recalled  to  our  mind  by  repeat- 
ing the  names  of  the  avenues  and  the  street,  and  re-enumerating 
a  few  typical  details  of  the  avenue  environment  ("six-cylinder, 
ultra-expensive  limousine,"  "speeding,"  "avenue"). — Note  the 
conciseness  with  which  setting  and  preliminary  characterization 
are  disposed  of,  to  make  way   for  action. 

'Why  is  O'Brien's  size  mentioned?  Whiteside's  was  not.  Is 
it  because  his  size  is  involved  in  his  appearance  in  the  new  suit  ? — 
*  Why  is  the  suit  mentioned?  Whiteside's  was  not.  Does  O'Brien 
correspond,  in  the  story,  to  a  character-actor  in  a  stage  piece?  Is 
he  a  comedy  chai'aeter?  Does  the  "get-up"  of  a  comic  per- 
sonage on  the  stage  enter  into  the  actor's  comedy  effect? — 'Is 
there  any  characterizing  effect  in  this  detail  and  those  associated 
with  it?  What  sort  of  men  are  "painfully  arrayed"  in  clothes 
of  "  very  obvious  newness "  when  they  start  out  to  have  some 
sort  of  a  good  time  or  vacation?  How  does  "a  very  obvious 
newness"  show  itself  in  ready-made  clothes?  Has  this  phrase, 
then,  picturing  as  well  as  characterizing  power? — *  Is  there  true 
class  characterization  in  this  distribution  of  burdens?  In  the 
brown-paper-and-twine-wrapt  bundle?  Are  these  items  mentioned 
for  the  same  reason  as  the  clothes? 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  53 

26.  "  We've  no  time  to  be  losin',  Father,"  said  Mrs. 
Hennessey,  heading  down  West  Cherry  Street  to  the 
Avenue  beyond,  along  which  the  elevated  trains  sent  up 
their  almost  incessant  clatter  and  roar.  "  The  boat  ^  I'aves 
at  tin  sharp.  We'd  best  be  gettin'  on.  If  there  should 
happen  to  be  a  block,  now,  or  aught  like  that " 

27.  From  somewhere  above  their  heads  came  a  series 
of  thin  sneezes  and  a  child's  croupy  cough. 


26.  The  action  of  the  second  movement,  or  stage  of  rising  ac- 
tion, begins  here. — This  story  is  built  on  the  parallel  plan.  O'Brien 
balances  Whiteside,  Mrs.  Hennessey  balances  Whittleby  (S.  S.  M., 
69,  note),  movement  1  parallels  movement  2;  there  are  two 
children.  Movements  3,  4,  and  5  drop  the  secondary  persons 
(Whittleby  and  Mrs.  Hennessey),  and  bring  Whiteside  and 
O'Brien  both  into  the  same  action ;  but  even  there  they  remain 
a  balanced  pair.  Movement  2  discloses  the  complication  as  it 
involves  O'Brien. 

'  "  The  boat."  Why  not  "  The  White  Star  boat  ?  "  Because 
the  skilled  writer  does  not  waste  words  to  tell  what  the  reader 
instantly  perceives  for  himself.  Nothing  weighs  down  and  kills 
lively  action  more  than  unnecessary  explanation,  even  though  it 
be  but  one  word  long. — Study  of  this  second  movement  is  espe- 
cially recommended  to  beginners.  The  unskilled  story-teller  would 
probably  begin  in  some  such  way  as  this : 

Michael  O'Brien  was  going  to  visit  the  "  Ould  Counthry." 
It  had  been  many  years  since  he  left  there  as  a  boy,  and  he 
had  never  been  back.  He  had  wanted  to  go,  but  circumstances 
would  not  permit  him.  But  after  lo !  these  many  years,  he  had 
accumulated  financial  resources  enough  to  make  the  trip,  and 
his  son  Timothy,  the  father  of  Michael's  beloved  grandson,  had 
added  enough  to  his  funds  to  enable  him  to  travel  in  the  second 
cabin.  He  had  written  time  and  again  to  his  friends  in  the 
Emerald  Isle  that  he  was  "  coming  back  to  Erin,"  and  they 
were  all  ready  to  give  him  a  hearty  welcome  to  the  land  of  the 
shamrock  and  harp.  Now  he  had  taken  and  paid  for  his  pas- 
sage, and  was  starting  for  the  docks.  He  was  goiisg  on  a  White 
Star  Line  boat.  His  daughter,  Mrs,  Hennessey,  Tim's  wife, 
was  with  him. 


54  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

28.  ^Michael  O'Brien's  wrinkled  face  suddenly  twisted, 
as  if  with  physical  pain, 

29.  "  I  dunno  about  goin'  at  all,  at  all,  Kora,"  said 
old  Michael,  suddenly  stopping  short,  "  wit'  the  wee  felly 
in  the  bad  shape  he  is.     I'd  never  forgive  mesilf  if " 

30.  "  Aw,  don't  be  foolish,"  said  his  daughter  almost 
sharply.  "  There's  nothin'  to  be  worritin'  yersilf  about. 
Don't  little  Tiramy  always  sneeze  and  bark  like  that,  do 
he  but  get  the  wee  fate  av  him  wet  be  some  av  his  own 
foolishness  strammin'  through  the  puddles.  He'll  be  suf- 
ferin'  no  great  har-rm  be  ut.  L'ave  him  lay  abed  the 
day  and  drink  the  hot  drinks  I'll  be  givin'  him  and  I'll 
warrant  ye  be  to-morrer  he'll  be  out  lookin'  for  more  av 
thim  puddles  to  stram  through.  Come  on !  'Tis  a  quarter 
past  nine  now !  " 

Now,  such  a  telling  of  the  facts  would  never  and  could  never 
"  get  over."  Not  only  is  it  uninspired,  it  is  crude  in  method.  It 
is  nothing  more  than  a  rambling  amplification  of  the  plot  abstract 
(S.  S.  M.,  76).  The  plot  abstract  is  nothing  but  raw  material  for 
the  story.  It  has  been  put  through  some  preliminary  processes 
of  manufacture,  but  only  those  that  adapt  it  to  use  as  raw  mate- 
rial in  the  main  process  of  the  composition.  Until  this  raw 
material  has  been  put  into  scenario  fonn  and  then  written  out 
into  the  fulfilled  plot,  it  is  a  valueless  product. 

27-28.  Cf.  the  closed  window  and  Whiteside's  uneasiness  (pars. 
7,  11).  In  each  case,  we  have  class  characterization — sedulous 
care  tor  the  sick  on  the  avenue,  unintentional  carelessness  in 
Cherry  Street;  frank,  undisciplined  revelation  of  emotion  in 
Michael,  restrained  behavior  under  emotion  on  the  part  of 
Malcom. 

30.  This  paragraph  is  to  be  cfd.  with  paragraph  10.  Observe : 
1.  The  impatience  of  both  Nora  and  Whittleby,  by  her  expressed 
"  almost  sharply,"  by  Whittleby  more  politely — as  we  should 
expect  from  his  different  social  standards.  2.  The  similarity  of 
their  reasoning,  and  the  dissimilarity  of  their  language.  3.  The 
essential  likeness  of  their  point  of  view,  corresponding  to  the 
essential  likeness  in  the  point  of  view  of  O'Brien  and  Whiteside. 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  55 

31.  Michael  followed  her  reluctantly.  He  looked  more 
like  a  man  going  to  his  execution  than  one  setting  out  on 
a  long  anticipated  pleasure  jaunt. 

32.  "  He's  sech  a  foine,  quare  little  felly,"  said 
Michael.  '^  If  he  should  be  tuk  bad  while  I'm  gone,  I'd 
nivir  be  forgivin'  mesilf." 

33.  "  Ye'd  chuck  up  yer  trip  because  av  that  bit  av 
a  cold  av  his,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Hennessey  almost 
crossly  as  she  quickened  her  steps.  "  Sure,  ye  could  be 
doin'  a  lot  if  he  was  sick  and  ye  stayed  at  home,  and 
threw  up  yer  passage  ye've  paid  for — and  Tim  givin'  ye 
enough  to  go  and  come  second  cabin  instead  av  in  the 
steerage !  ^  Even  if  the  lad  is  sick,  he'll  get  jest  as  good 
care  as  if  ye  was  here." 

34.  "  Av  coorse,  av  coorse,"  said  old  Michael,  but  he 
said  it  as  if  he  did  not  in  the  least  believe  it. 

35.  "  I  don't  mind  yer  iver  worritin'  so  much  about 
anny  of  yer  own  childer." 

36.  Michael  shook  his  grizzled  head. 

37.  "  He's  such  a  different  wee  felly  from  most  av 
'em,"  said  he.  "  He's  that  longheaded  and  such  quare 
ideas  for  such  a  wee  chap !  " 

38.  "  Shure !  He's  the  sivinth  wonder  av  the  world," 
said  his  daughter  with  a  sidelong,  sardonic  grin  at  him. 


31-42.  Note  the  almost  perfect  parallel  between  pars.  31-42  and 
pars.  11-24.  Note  especially  the  almost  complete  correspondence 
between  par.  14  and  par.  36.  and  par.  15  and  par.  34.  Further  ef. 
par.  19  with  37,  20-22  with  38-39.  "  Handsome  gray  "  is  apt  for 
the  man  whose  life  has  been  easy ;  "  grizzled  "  fits  the  man  of 
labor  and  hard  knocks.  In  this  very  human  situation,  the  only 
difference  in  their  words  is  one  of  pronunciation;  and  in  their 
manner  of  speaking  is  no  difference  at  all. — *  (Par.  33).  See 
par.  10:3.—'  (Par.  39).     See  par.  10:3. 


no  ToDAv'tj  Short  Stouies  Analyzed 

39.  ''  ]>ut,  bcavin  be  praised,  wit'  all  bis  great  intel- 
leck  he's  wan  rare  tough  little  kid.  So  don't  ye  worrit 
yersilf  no  more.  Go  have  ver  foine  trip  like  yc  planned. 
Think  bow  disappointed  the  Ilcavej's  and  the  Shanghnes- 
seys  and  the  Finnigans  would  be  if  ye  didn't  come  after 
all  the  writin'  ye've  done  to  'em."  ^ 

40.  They  bad  reached  the  elevated  station  on  the 
Avenue. 

41.  "  Hurry !  I  hear  a  down  train  comin',"  said  she. 

42.  Old  Michael  was  peering  down  "West  Cherry  Street, 
and  as  he  peered  his  face  was  working  in  very  evident 
distress. 

43.  On  one  of  the  decks  of  the  Slavic  is  a  dividing 
rope.  Forward  of  the  rope  the  second  cabin  passengers 
may  disport  themselves ;  aft  of  it  is  given  over  to  first- 
class  travelers. 

44.  On  one  side  of  that  rope  stood  Michael  O'Brien, 
taking  in  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  approaching  sailing; 
close  by,  on  the  other  side  of  the  rope,  his  elbows  on  the 
rail,  stood  Malcom  "Whiteside. 

45.  Mrs.  Hennessey,  having  seen  her  father  duly  en- 
sconced, had  kissed  him  resoundingly,  bidden  him  not 
to  worry,  entrusted  to  him  several  scores  of  messages  for 
several  scores  of  people  in  the  old  country,  and  taken  her 
departure. 

46.  Mr.    Whittleby,     having    seen    bis    father-in-law 


43-46.  Third  movement  begins  here.  The  two  preceding  move- 
ments have  introduced  the  two  leading  persons,  characterized  them 
socially  and — in  their  position  as  grandfathers — humanly,  dis- 
closed the  complication,  and  carried  the  conflict  forward  rapidly. 
The  outcome  of  the  struggle  in  these  two  parallel  phases  of  the 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  57 

aboard,  had  warmly  pressed  his  hand,  bidden  him  not 
worry,  thrust  upon  hira  a  half-dozen  boxes  of  his  favorite 
cigars,  and  taken  his  departure. 

47.  Sailing  time  was  rapidly  nearing.  Mr.  Whiteside, 
chewing  fiercely  the  end  of  the  cigar  in  his  mouth,  looked 
longingly  at  the  crowded  wharf. 

48.  Michael  O'Brien,  gripping  tightly  the  rail,  also 
looked  shoreward  with  troubled  eyes. 

49.  A  deep-toned  whistle  boomed  out  brayingly  above 
their  heads.     Michael  O'Brien  started  violently. 

50.  "I  can't  be  goin';  I  cant;  that's  all  there  is  to 


crisis  has  been,  the  defeat  of  grandparental  devotion  by  the  allied 
forces  of  the  planned  voyage  and  the  pressure  of  the  grand- 
child's parent. — Observe  again  the  swift  compactness  of  the  pas- 
sage that  gives  the  setting  for  the  new  movement.  As  in  move- 
ment 2,  the  stage  is  set  in  the  opening  paragraph.  This  setting, 
with  our  knowledge  of  what  has  already  taken  place,  gives  us 
a  full  understanding  of  the  situation  as  it  is  now,  and  of  the 
two  men  who  are  in  it. — Notice  that  the  secondaiy  facts — the 
departure  of  Whittleby  and  Nora — are  buried  in  the  opening, 
out  of  their  chronological  order  and  in  an  linemphatic  position. 
To  test  the  soundness  of  the  technique  here,  recast  the  opening, 
introducing  the  facts  in  their  chronological  order. — Study  the 
subordination  of  ancillary  fact  in  the  opening  of  these  move- 
ments, referring  to  S.  S.  M.,  153:4  and  165 :  21-23.— Observe 
closely  how  the  two  separate  lines  of  action — that  involving 
Whiteside  and  that  involving  O'Brien,  are  brought  together  and 
combined.  Is  the  motivating  of  the  trip  adequate?  true-seeming? 
Why  is  it  unnecessary  to  tell  more  about  the  wedding  and 
O'Brien's  visit  home?  Are  they  plausible  without  further  treat- 
ment? _ 

47-48.  Here  the  action  is  resumed.  Observe  here  and  in  the  rest 
of  the  story  how  the  two  lines  of  action,  involving  Whiteside  and 
O'Brien  respectively,  are  intertwined,  yet  managed  so  that  we 
are  all  the  time  aware  of  their  being  distinct. 

50.  This  spontaneous  cry  of  O'Brien's  grandfather's-soul,  and 
his  unconscious  look  of  anguish,  are  perfectly  natural — artistically 


58  Today's  Siiokt  Stokies  Analyzed 

it!  "  he  inuttciTcl  thickly.  As  he  spoke  he  turned  a  dis- 
traught face  towards  Mr.  Whiteside.  He  had  no  inten- 
tion of  doing  so.  The  action  was  purely  the  involuntary 
one  of  a  harassed  mind.  He  simply  looked  ahout  him  at 
random.  It  was  merest  chance  that  he  turned  to  White- 
side as  he  spoke. 

51.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  said  Mr.  Whiteside  po- 
litely, thinking  ho  had  been  addressed,  and  the  bray  of 
the  whistle  drowning  most  of  the  words. 

52.  Michael  O'Brien  started.  For  the  first  time  he 
seemed  aw-are  of  his  neighbor's  presence.  He  coughed  in 
embarrassment. 

53.  "  I  was  talkin'  to  mesilf,"  said  he,  "  but  I  was  won- 
derin'  w^hether  or  not  I  had  the  nerve  to  go  ashore.  I've 
a  little  grandson,  the  foinest  little  felly  ye  iver  clapped 
eyes  on.  He's  sick.  I've  been  plannin'  this  trip  for  years, 
and  if  I  go  ashore  I'll  have  to  lose  me  passage,  and  belikcs 
I'll  nivir  get  another  chance  to  go  across.  But  I'd  give 
tin  dollars  if  I  had  the  nerve  to  bolt  ashore  right  now." 

plausible.  Therefore,  as  they  are  what  brings  him  and  White- 
side into  comradeship,  they  constitute  excellent  motivation. — Are 
the  last  four  sentences  psychological  narration  (S.  S.  M.,  228), 
or  merely  the  author's  full  description  of  O'Brien's  behavior? 
Are  they  superfluous?     If  not,  what  is  gained  through  them? 

51.  Note  how  in  keeping  with  a  ]\Ialeom  Whiteside  this  is,  as 
par.  50  is  in  keeping  with  a  Michael  O'Brien.  Herein  we  have 
skillful  preservation  of  manner  and  characteristic — the  sustained 
and  consistent  portrayal  of  definitely  conceived  character.  Go 
through  the  story,  noting  other  instances  of  the  same  thing. 

52.  Characteristic  behavior. 

53.  Observe  the  old  fellow's  burst  of  loquacity.  Three  things 
unite  to  produce  it :  1,  the  Irish  nature,  which  frequently  is 
loquacious;  2,  the  old  man's  embarrassment;  3,  his  harrowed  feel- 
ings. Placing  this  outburst  on  his  lips  is  good  characterization, 
and  the  outburst  is  well  motivated  in  knowledge  of  human  and 
Irish  nature. 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  59 

54.  He  seemed  to  feel  he  was  speaking  to  a  sympathetic 
soul/  Nor  was  he  wrong.  Malcom  Whiteside  took  a  long 
breath. 

55.  "  My  youngest  son/'  he  explained  quietly,  "  is 
marrying  an  English  girl.  This  is  the  last  boat  that  will 
get  me  over  in  time  for  the  wedding.  I  have  a  little  grand- 
daughter. She  too  was  ill  when  I  left  the  house  this  morn- 
ing. And  I'd  give  a  great  deal  if  I  had  the  nerve  to  go 
ashore.  My  friend,  we  seem  to  be  in  the  same  fix.  But 
I  imagine  we'd  better  go  on.  Probably  we've  magnified 
matters,  anyway.  No  doubt  both  the  children  will  be  all 
right.    Have  a  cigar !  "  ^ 

56.  He  passed  over  a  long,  black,  alluring  weed  from 
his  case.  Old  Michael  took  it,  mumbled  his  thanks,  bit 
off  a  good  third  of  it  and  held  a  sputtering  match  to  the 
wrong  end.^ 

57.  "  All  the  same  I  wisht  I  had  the  nerve  to  git  off," 
he  said. 

58.  "  So  do  I,"  agreed  Whiteside. 


54.  '  Another  indication  that  Whiteside  is  a  gentleman  in 
spirit  as  well  as  in  social  position.     We  have  felt  this  all  along. 

55.  "  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  " — the  depths  of  O'Brien's  human 
trouble  to  the  depths  of  Whiteside's.  Probably  no  other  theme 
would  have  caused  the  reserved  man  of  culture  to  open  his  affairs 
in  this  way  to  a  Michael  O'Brien.  But  the  one  touch  of  human 
nature  makes  them  brothers  in  trouble. — ^  An  act  that  confirms 
the  sympathy.     They  are  on  the  same  human  footing  now. 

56.  *  Details  that  stand  for  Michael's  troubled  state  of  mind  as 
well  as  his  embarrassment.  No  doubt,  also,  Mr.  Whiteside's 
readiness  to  notice  him  gives  him  a  pleasure  that  adds  to  his 
confusion.  Try  to  realize  the  "  business  "  that  an  actor  taking 
the  part  of  O'Brien  would  put  into  his  representation  of  the 
Irishman's  state  of  mind. 

57-58.  Unimportant  if  it  were  not  that  they  prepare  the  way 
for  the  entrance  of  the  taxicab  party  into  the  motivation,  by 


60  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

59.  At  that  moment  a  taxi  came  speeding  down  the 
wharf.  Out  of  it  tumbled  a  merry  little  group — an 
elderly  man,  a  youngish  woman  and  two  small  children, 
boy  and  girl. 

60.  There  was  a  hurried  round  of  embraces ;  then  the 
elderly  man  caught  up  his  bundle  of  rugs  and  stooped  to 
the  two  little  upturned  faces. 

61.  "  Goo'-by,  granper !  Goo'-by  !  Goo'-by !  "  they 
chattered  shrilly. 

62.  "  My  God  !  "  said  Michael  O'Brien. 

63.  Mr.  Whiteside  did  not  heed  his  cigar,  which  went 
plopping  overside. 

64.  ^'  Suppose — suppose  I  shouldn't  never  see  little 
Timmy  again,"  Michael  almost  whispered. 

65.  "  My  God !  "  It  was  Wliiteside  who  said  it  this 
time. 

66.  The  whistle  was  braying  again.  There  was  a  great 
uproar  on  the  wharf.  Already  they  were  getting  the  gang- 
planks in. 

67.  Whiteside  leaped  nimbly  across  the  dividing  rope 
and  clutched  Michael  O'Brien  by  the  arm. 

68.  "  Come  on !  "  he  cried. 

69.  "  Hurry !  "  yelled  Michael,  panting  along  in  his 
wake. 


bring^ing  our  attention  back  to  the  struggle  in  the  mind  of  the 
two  "  granpers." 

59-66.  The  decisive  episode,  or  circumstance.  See  S.  S.  M., 
(index),  passim.  Note  how  the  "gi-anper's"  good-by  is  managed 
— so  that  it  is  certain  to  bring  home  to  O'Brien  and  Whiteside  the 
poignancy  of  parting  from  their  pets. 

67-73.  Decisive  moment,  pars.  67-68.  Climactic  height,  pars. 
67-73;  see  S.  S.  M.,  74  :B;  168:26-27.  The  outcome  (S.  S.M., 
115-117)  is  included  in  the  grand  climax. 


In  the  Matter  of  Distance  61 

YO.  Down  the  last  gang-plank  they  tumbled.  White- 
side hailed  a  taxieab. 

71.  "  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ? "  he  barked  at 
Michael.     Michael  gave  him  the  address. 

72.  Whiteside  turned  to  the  chauffeur. 

73.  "  Forty-six  West  Cherry  Street,  first ;  then  take 
me  out  to  684  Beverly  Avenue.  Let  her  out!  I'll  stand 
for  your  fine  if  you're  pinched !  " 

74.  A  six-cylinder,  ultra-expensive  limousine  swung 
into  West  Cherry  Street.  It  stopped  at  number  46. 
Michael  O'Brien,  sitting  on  the  doorstep,  looked  up.  Out 
of  the  limousine  was  thrust  a  very  handsome  gray  head. 
The  face  beneath  the  gray  hair  was  a  trifle  sheepish. 

75.  "  Say,"  said  Malcom  Whiteside,  "  how  did  you 
find  your  kid  ?  " 

76.  Michael  smiled  foolishly  and  licked  his  lips  with 
his  tongue. 

77.  "  He  w'ere  up  the  street,  whalin'  sin  outer  a  Italian 
kid  that  had  sarsed  him,"  he  confessed.  "  And  the  little 
girl  ?  "  he  inquired  politely. 

78.  "  She'd  grown  tired  of  being  kept  abed.  She'd  got 
up  and  run  away.  They  were  just  bringing  her  back  when 
I  arrived." 

79.  There  was  an  understanding  silence.  They  grinned 
at  each  other. 

80.  "  I  think  w^e  need  a  bit  of  stimulant,"  Whiteside 
invited.     "  Get  in !  " 


74-82.  Here  begins  movement  4.  This,  with  the  closing  para- 
graph, constitutes  the  separate  ending  (S.  S.  M.,  169-174),  (More 
loosely,  these  paragraphs  can  be  termed  falling  action.) — In  the 
present  ending,  we  have  combined  the  two  sorts  of  ending  de- 


62  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

81.  "  I'm  wid  yez  there,  sor,  thougli  I  guess  it's  on  the 
two  av  us,"  said  Michael  O'Brien,  entering  the  limousine. 

82.  It  is  something  like  a  mile  and  a  half  from  West 
Cherry  Street  to  Beverly  Avenue,  as  the  crow  flies.  Fig- 
uring another  way,  the  distance  is  even  less. 


scribed  in  S.  S.  M.,  173 :  6.  The  closing  paragraph  is  interpre- 
tive comment.  The  other  paragraphs  contain  a  revelation  of  the 
final  results  of  the  outcome :  these  were,  that  after  giving  up 
their  trip,  the  grandfathers  found  the  youngsters  perfectly  safe 
— out,  indeed,  on  mischief  bent. — The  ending  here  justifies  itself 
for  several  reasons:  (1)  It  presents  as  a  humor-intensifying  epi- 
sode, the  facts  necessary  to  complete  revelation  of  the  outcome, 
with  its  anti-climax.  (2)  It  emphasizes  the  fact  that  the  grand- 
fathers were  moved  by  instinct,  or  emotional  impulse,  not  by 
reason,  thus  again  concentrating  attention  on  the  common  human 
nature  displayed  by  them — i.e.,  on  the  theme.  See  S.  S.  M., 
208 :G.  (3)  It  satisfies  a  certain  interest  that  we  have  come 
to  feel  in  the  children  (this  hints  anew  the  truth  of  the  human 
nature  trait  presented  by  the  author,  since  it  proves  that  we  too 
feel  its  emotional  appeal).  (4)  It  intensifies  our  sense  of  the 
"  humanness "  of  the  two  men,  showing  them  continuing  (tem- 
porarily, at  least)  in  their  fellowship  after  the  crisis  that  brought 
them  together  is  past.  The  barriers  of  rank  and  station  are 
down.  This  impression  is  further  increased  by  the  hint  of  a 
taste  in  common  (they  go  to  take  a  drink),  and  by  the  sense  of 
humor  they  reveal  in  recognizing  the  element  of  ridiculousness  in 
their  recent  conduct. — As  to  the  sufficiency  of  the  motivation, 
we  may  now  cf .  S.  S.  M.,  207 :  E. 


SOME   BASIC   PEINCIPLES   ILLUSTRATED   BY 
THE  FOREGOING  STORY 

1.  The  conte  is  a  drama  in  narrative  (S.  S.  M.,  sec.  3). 
— this  story  could  be  acted  as  a  dialogue-play  in  four 
scenes. 

2.  The  plot  of  the  conte  must  he  dramatic  (S.  S.  M., 
sec.  4). — The  plot  is  adequately  motivated  throughout,  as 
required  by  the  principle  stated  in  S.  S.  M.,  19 :  6. 

3.  The  short  story  tends  to  he  catastrophic  in  form; 
i.e.,  to  meet  the  requirements  stated  in  S.  S.  M.,  16:2  and 
17:5. 

4.  Singleness  of  effect  is  necessary  to  the  short  story; 
see  S.  S.  M,,  19 :  1-3.  This  story  has  a  single,  unified 
effect :  it  makes  us  see  that  Beverly  Avenue  (representing 
wealth  and  culture)  is  no  different  from  West  Cherry 
Street  (representing  the  "  masses  ")  in  the  trait  of  grand- 
fatherly  doting  on  the  grandchild. 

5.  Atmosphere  is  the  result  of  subjective  coloring — the 
flavor  of  luell-blended  literary  ingredients  (S.  S.  M., 
54-60) . — This  story  has  the  flavoring  of  a  genial  criticism 
upon  life  seen  in  the  human  nature  of  grandfathers ;  and 
it  is  tinted — not  highly  colored — subjectively  with  seri- 
ousness and  with  humor.  This  is  the  result  of  its  report- 
ing accurately  (S.  S.  M.,  60:  13)  from  the  viewpoint  of  a 
sympathetic  observer  (the  author). 


63 


A  RAGTIME  LADY 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  In  forming  an  estimate  of  this  story,  include  the 
ideas  of  these  passages  from  S.  S.  M.,  among  those  con- 
sidered : 

5:11;  G:  14-16;  13:1;  lG:2-3;  27:4;  32:15;  35:21; 
51:16;  55:4-6;  64:15-17;  37:3-4;  54:1;  48:12; 
181:5,  10-14. 

2.  The  elements  of  character,  theme,  plot,  and  atmos- 
phere are  so  blended  in  this  story  as  to  make  classification 
difficult — and  unnecessary.  That  the  authors  did  not 
begin  from  a  conception  of  atmosj^here  seems  reasonably 
certain.  But  the  origin  of  the  story  may  have  been  either 
a  plot,  a  character,  or  a  theme  conception  (S.  S.  M.,  36  :  22  ; 
76:  A,  B;  217:4).  By  a  process  of  elimination  we  may 
possibly  exclude  theme  as  the  source  of  the  story,  because 
the  theme,  although  clearly  present,  is  not  an  emphasized 
theme ;  it  is  present  in  the  form  of  a  motif  rather  than  a 
propositioii  (S.  S.  M.,  96:10,  and  "The  Defective")- 
To  determine  between  plot  and  character  as  the  first  source 
of  the  conception,  however,  is  harder.  The  central  person 
(Martha)  is  conceived  not  only  clearly  and  completely, 
but  also  with  sympathy  and  a  strong  liking.  The  idea  of 
such  a  person,  dwelling  in  an  author's  mind,  might  easily 
result  in  his  conceiving  a  plot  to  exhibit  the  character. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  story  might  readily  grow  up  from 
putting  together  conceptions  of  plot  incidents  and  creating 
a  person  to  fit  the  resultant  plot.     Finally,  it  is  anything 

64 


A  Ragtime  Lady  65 

but  impossible  that  the  original  conception  was  that  of  a 
girl  like  Martha  thrown  into  an  environment  of  country 
and  small-town  life,  the  plot  being  built  up  to  fit  and  il- 
lustrate this  situation. 

3.  The  difference  between  setting  and  environment 
(S.  S.  M.,  59  ff.)  can  be  observed  here.  The  element  of 
environment  is  strong,  not  only  in  the  rising  action  but  in 
the  expository  passages  as  well,  and  enters  into  the  com- 
plication and  its  solution.  Setting  is  less  prominent ;  it 
serves  mainly  as  a  device  for  presenting  character  and 
mood  (pars.  15-21)  and  as  a  background  for  the  same  ele- 
ments (pars.  22-35). 

4.  Subjective  coloring  produced  by  the  mood  and  per- 
sonality of  the  authors  is  found  in  this  story  (S.  S.  M., 
62  ff.,  11-12,  14-17).  It  can  be  felt  throughout  the  dia- 
logue and  descriptive  passages,  and  definitely  located 
sometimes  in  single  words  or  phrases  of  the  authors'  own 
(as  in  pars.  9-10).  The  student  will  find  profit  in  trying 
to  locate  this  quality  wherever  it  is,  and  also  in  attempt- 
ing, in  a  paragraph  or  two  of  direct  exposition,  to  char- 
acterize the  authors — that  is,  to  describe  or  explain  the 
qualities  of  the  personality  responsible  for  the  creation  of 
the  story. 

5.  The  story  consists  mainly  of  dialogue.  Mark  the 
parts  that  consist  neither  of  dialogue  nor  of  characteriza- 
tions of  the  speech  of  the  persons,  and  note  the  amount  of 
marked  matter.  What  part  of  it  is  purely  narrative  in 
function  ?  What  part  is  concerned  with  necessary  descrip- 
tion— setting,  persons,  etc.  ?  What  part  is  the  expression 
of  personal  views  or  feelings  ?  I^ote  all  these  proportions 
carefully.  Note  also  the  compactness  and  brevity  of  the 
ancillary  passages,  such  as  settings,  transitions,  situation 


66  Today's  Shokt  Stories  Anat.yzep 

hiuts,  and  the  like;  e.g.,  pars.  0-10,  1.5-16,  21,  22-23,  24, 
173.  For  its  use  of  dialogue,  study  it  in  comparison  with 
S.  S.  M.,  229-249. 

6.  The  various  means  of  characterization  can  be 
profitably  studied  in  this  story.  See  S.  S.  M.,  161-165; 
182-184;  206-214;  214-219;  222-228;  234-240.  Prob- 
ably this  study  can  be  carried  on  best  by  taking  one  per- 
son at  a  time.  Note  every  phrase  and  passage  that  helps 
to  portray  this  person's  character,  and  determine  how  and 
why  it  has  this  effect.  Remember  that,  though  this  story 
is  alive  with  action,  it  is  also  a  story  of  character  portrayal, 
with  a  strong  element  of  character  contrast. 

7.  Psychological  situation  is  present.  The  story  is  not 
a  psychological  conte,  but  by  a  redistribution  of  emphasis 
it  could  be  made  one.  A  reference  to  S.  S.  M.,  50: 15  is 
worth  while. 

8.  Consequential  exposition  (S.  S.  M.,  171-173)  is  not 
emphasized  enough  at  one  point.  Except  by  our  own  in- 
sight, we  are  not  led  to  realize  the  full  significance  to 
Martha  of  her  return  to  the  old  environment — a  probable 
deterioration  in  her  own  character  (see  comment  on  par. 
154).  This  is  a  blemish  rather  than  a  structural  fault — 
an  obscurity,  tending  to  lessen  the  strength  of  the  motiva- 
tion and  weaken  the  sense  of  tragic  crisis.  The  general 
excellence  of  the  story,  however,  helps  to  obscure  the  pres- 
ence of  the  blemish.  A  few  words — probably  in  some 
speech  of  Martha's — would  have  directed  our  attention 
certainly  to  this  intensifying  element  of  the  crisis. 

9.  As  a  study  of  small  community  persons  and  char- 
acter, cf.  this  story  with  "The  Last  Rose  "  and  "  Little 
Sunbeam,"  and  to  some  extent  with  "  The  Defective." 


A  EAGTIME  LADY 

By  Eugene  Manlove  Rhodes  and  Laurence  Yates 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Authors  from  "  The 

Saturday  Evening  Post"  for  July  26,  1913 

(Copyrighted,  1913) 

1.  "  Sally  Menlick  ?  Gone  back  to  Shoetown,  I  hope !  " 
A  pinched  and  virtuous  nostril  could  not  forbear  a  sniff. 
"  Good  riddance !  No  more  such  girls  in  my  dining 
room !  " 

2.  "  Yes — I  can  quite  understand  that,"  said  Martha. 

3.  She  accompanied  the  sympathetic  tone  with  a  dis- 
creet but  slow  and  reflective  glance;  so  that  the  ruffled 
mistress  of  the  Halliday  Hotel  was  suddenly  conscious  of 
sallow  cheeks,  thinning  hair  and  other  thinness. 


1-7.  These  paragraphs  are  the  main  part  of  the  opening 
(S.  S.  M.,  122-150).  For  the  dialogue  opening,  cf.  S.  S.  M.,  139 : 
5-6;  for  dialogue  in  detail,  S.  S.  M.,  229-249.— Observe  the  ade- 
quacy of  the  landlady  picture  that  is  effected  by  pars.  1-5;  the 
swift,  effective  characterization  of  pars.  1-7.  Study  the  qualifying 
words,  especially  the  adjectives,  through  which  much  of  this  effect 
(outside  the  dialogue)  is  wrought. — Does  the  dialogue  here  amount 
to  action,  oris  it  activity  only  (S.  S.  M.,  37:4;  136:1;  140:7-8)? 
— Observe  that,  although  the  landlady  is  more  active  than  Martha, 
and  receives  as  much  notice  from  the  author,  we  recognize  Martha 
at  once  as  the  more  important  person.  How  much  of  this  effect 
is  owed  to  the  fact  that  Martha  is  named  outright,  but  the  land- 
lady merely  described?  Is  any  part  of  it  owed  to  the  fact  that 
the  landlady  is  the  object  of  Martha's  attention?  How  much 
from  her  being  a  foil  to  the  girl  (S.  S.  M.,  69,  n.)  ?— How  many 
of  the  principal  actors  are  brought  to  our  attention  in  this  opea- 

07 


68  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

4.  "Hoity-toity!  And  who  arc  you,  you  bareheaded 
baggage?  "  A  mouth  to  neighbor  the  virtuous  nose  tight- 
ened primly  to  a  new  buttonhole. 

5.  ''Must  you  know  that — really?"  Martha  turned 
dowTi  the  steps  with  a  smile  so  sweetly  serene  that  mere 
words  were  superfluous. 

6.  "  Oho !  You're  her  sister,  I  guess !  Just  as  brassy 
as  she  was !  Pretendin'  her  heart  was  bad,  and  writing 
home — the  girls  said — that  the  work  was  too  hard  !  I  told 
her  she  needn't  think  she  could  gad  the  streets  half  the 
night  and  mope  round  all  day — impudent  minx !  " 

7.  The  last  words  were  an  interruption  of  her  own  ad- 
dressed to  a  Parthian  foe  who,  most  unfairly,  would  not 
look  back.  The  exasperated  lady  slammed  the  door.  Her 
complexion  w^as  bettered. 

8.  "  Xow  isn't  that  just  like  Sally !  Here  I  do  a  help- 
ful Henriette — out  carfare  ;  miss  the  ball  game .     Oh, 

you  Biff !    Xever  again  !    Xow  what  will  little  Miss  Time- 
killer  do  with  herself  in  this  jay-town  till  traintime?  " 


iug?  How  many  secondary  persons?  At  what  points  are  the 
other  main  persons  first  brought  in?  Are  any  introduced  beyond 
the  middle  of  the  story  (the  principle  stated  in  S.  S.  M.,  167:  24, 
about  atmosphere,  is  equally  applicable  to  incident  and  persons)  ? 
— Observe  the  tone  of  Martha's  speech  and  behavior;  it  is  char- 
acteristic, and  it  strikes  a  note  of  the  tonal  chord  of  the  story. 
The  landlady  strikes  another  note  in  this  chord;  buoyant  inde- 
pendence and  understanding  humanism  are  counterpointed  with 
sourness,  suspicion,  and  little-mindedness  throughout  the  story. 
This  contrast  is  part  of  the  motif  (S.  S.  M.,  96 :  10).  On  keynote 
see  S.  S.  M.,  127 :  10.  In  this  story,  much  of  the  tone  is  the 
result  of  character,  and  of  action  that  conforms  to  character. 

8-10.  Properly  managed,  direct  comment  on  man  and  life  is 
not  opposed  to  the  nature  of  the  short  story.  Observe  that  here 
the  tone  as  well  as  the  substance  of  the  comment  is  in  agi'eemeat 


A  Ragtime  Lady  69 

9.  What  little  Miss  Timekiller  did  was  strikingly  hu- 
man— or,  to  be  accurate,  feminine.  It  is  significant  that 
few  married  men  believe  the  spiteful  story  that  Eve 
brought  all  our  miseries  upon  us  for  an  apple.  An  apple 
— that  common  and  useful  thing! — would  that  have 
tempted  Eve  ?     It  was  an  apple  blossom  ! 

10.  Needless  dazzles  from  front  windows :  needful 
keeps  to  the  back  shelves.  In  the  window  of  the  Little 
Shop  a  rose-colored  bandeau  headed  an  ambuscade  of  love- 
liness. Martha  fell  at  the  first  fire.  That  lovely  silky- 
shiny  should  be  hers  against  the  next  Casino  dance  of  the 
Time-Recorder  boys  or  the  Dennison  Shoe. 

11.  As  she  held  the  bandeau  against  her  hair  before  an 
enraptured  mirror,  she  became  suddenly,  stabbingly  aware 
that  no  wristbag  dangled  or  swung,  or  in  any-other-soever- 
wise  appertained  to  either  mirrored  wrist.  It  had  always 
been  an  absent-minded  bag  and  this  time  had  stupidly 
failed  to  leave  the  train,  keeping  both  money  and  return 


with  situation  and  character;  hence  it  does  not  seem  to  be  lugged 
in,  but  actually  to  "  belong." — The  last  sentence  of  par.  10  com- 
pletes the  placing  of  Martha  socially — a  working-girl  of  the  shoe- 
factory  grade. 

11-14.  As  an  example  of  compression,  the  first  fourteen  para- 
graphs are  worth  studying.  A  passage-at-words,  characterization 
of  a  woman,  part  characterization  of  the  heroine;  an  explanation 
of  her  trip  and  its  uselessness,  suggestion  of  the  character  of  her 
sister  (motivation  of  later  situation),  and  precipitating  incident 
in  the  discovery  of  the  loss  of  her  wristbag — all  this  is  here, 
besides  two  incidents  (the  interview  and  the  bandeau-shopping) 
developed  with  the  effect  of  complete  fullness. — Note  the  gener- 
ating circumstance  and  the  easy  disclosure  of  it  (par.  11).  Note 
also  the  self-assurance  indicated  by  pars.  12-14;  this  will  stand 
in  contrast  with  mental  turmoil  later  on.  Study  "  caressing  " ; 
what  does  it  suggest  about  Martha  besides  her  disappointment  at 
not  getting  the  bandeau  (lightly  pathetic)  ?    On  inciting  impulse 


70  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ticket  to  Dennison,  and  Icaviiiii'  bcr  i)t'imiless  in  a  strange 
town,  where  she  had  neither  friend  nor  friend's  friend  ! 
She  turned  her  head  to  observe  the  effect  in  profile  and 
cooed  frank  admiration.  Then,  with  a  weighty,  judicial 
air: 

12.  "  You  haven't  this  in  a  delicate  pink,  have  you  ?  " 

13.  "  They  are  wearing  bright  colors  this  season,"  said 
the  little  shopkeeper  reassuringly. 

14.  "  Um-m-m — yes."  The  girl  quirked  a  red  and 
critical  under  lip.  "  It  is  pretty,  isn't  it  ?  But  I'll  look 
round  a  little,  I  guess.  Thank  you !  "  She  went  out  with 
a  caressing  backward  glance. 

15.  Vesper  Courthouse  fronts  Vesper  Bridge.  Whether 
the  courthouse  is  more  unsightly  than  expensive  is  un- 


and  generating  circumstance,  see  S.  S.  M.,  85  ff.  This  story  has 
a  preUminary  complication  and  a  preliminary  generating  circum- 
stance— the  problem,  how  Martha  is  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty. 
which  has  been  revealed  to  us  by  the  discovery  of  the  loss  of 
the  bag.  This  part,  however,  is  merely  machinery  to  bring  on 
the  real  complication.  This  lies  in  the  opposing  forces  of 
Martha's  family  and  personal  past,  her  character,  temperament, 
tastes,  and  manners, — all  her  experience  and  outlook  on  life — 
and  the  essentially  different  conditions  of  life,  manners,  and 
social  outlook,  and  standards,  in  the  new  environment.  This 
struggle  in  turn  is  precipitated  by  the  love  that  springs  up 
between  Martha  and  Coburn,  and  the  love-entanglement  is  the 
natural  consequence  of  the  wristbag  circumstance  and  the  result- 
ing meeting.  In  these  passages  we  have  excellent  choice  and 
management  of  plot-incident  (S.  S.  M.,  107  ff.).  One  of  the  char- 
acteristics especially  belonging  to  Mr.  Rhodes'  fiction  is,  a  choice 
of  unhackneyed  yet  perfectly,  plausible  incidents  through  which 
to  develop  his  action.  (Mr.  Yates'  incident  shows  a  like  prefer- 
ence, but  coupled  with  a  fondness  for  realistic  character  and 
local-color  portrayal  that  produces  a  difference  of  element  in 
the  romantic  tone.) 

15-16.    Note  the  effect  of  local-color  and  how  it  is  secured.     The 


A  Ragtime  Lady  71 

ascertained.   After  a  conscious  v^iew  of  that  massed  ugliness 
no  one  has  had  the  heart  to  go  into  details  of  cost. 

16.  Riverward  from  those  mnley  towers,  in  a  green 
park  shaded  about  by  elm  and  maple,  a  granite  soldier 
looks  southward  to  far  battlefields.  oSTo  stiff  fighting 
machine;  this  was  the  fighting  man — the  citizen  soldier; 
careless ;  confident ;  leaning  at  ease  on  his  long  rifle ;  a 
lean,  strong  face,  firm-mouthed  and  watchful.  We  are  glad 
for  the  strong  stone  soldier.  Perhaps  he  is  none  the  less  ef- 
fective against  a  background  of  Vesper  Courthouse.  We 
are  a  venal  nation ;  but  we  build  no  statues  to  contractors. 

17.  ''  And  Dennison  twenty  miles  away — almost,"  said 
Martha,  with  a  whimsical  eye  for  the  granite  soldier,  high 
on  his  four-square  shaft.  "  Tell  my  troubles  to  a  police- 
man ?  Get  sent  home  by  express  and  a  column  in  the 
Vesper  Bell  ?    Not  on  your  linotype !     I'd  rather  tell  'em 


Vesper;  the  courthouse,  ugly  and  expensive;  the  common  or 
"  square,"  with  the  statue — these  are  all  suggestive  of  the  Ameri- 
can town  that  is  something  more  than  a  village  and  much  less 
than  a  city.  Observe  the  limited  number  of  details.  Essential 
characteristics  of  the  American  town  in  any  section — north,  south, 
east,  or  west — are  given;  too  many  details  would  have  tended  to 
localize  the  story  more  dehnitely  than  is  desirable — so  that  the 
reader  would  be  less  inclined  to  realize  its  action  iu  his  own 
environment.  Stories  in  which  the  action  is  at  bottom  that  of 
the  inner  life  rather  than  of  the  outer,  are  sometimes  strengthened 
by  the  use  of  a  setting  general  enough  to  permit  the  reader  to 
localize  the  story  in  his  own  environment.  The  present  story  is 
a  stoi-y  of  inner  character  translating  itself  into  outward  action. 
— Note  how  the  last  three  sentences  of  par.  16  are  made  to  carry 
comment  on  our  national  ideals. — 

17-21.  Mood  conveyed  in  monologue  by  the  actor.  Note  the 
pleasing  effect  of  the  fanciful  conception  in  this  full-of-life  girl 
who  uses  slang.  Here  is  the  first  obvious  indication  that  there  are 
depths  of  imagination,  sound  romance,  and  feeling  beneath  the 
flippant  surface  and  ready  self-reliance.     The  act  of  par.  20  is 


72  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

to  you,  soldiiT,  if  you  have  tlic  time."  She  saw  that  the 
stone  soldier  was  listening;  he  turned  his  head  ever  so 
slightly  as  he  peered  through  the  green  arches. 

18.  "Know  what  I'm  going  to  do?  Walk— that's 
what — just  like  a  boy!  Bing!  "  She  set  her  white  teeth 
together  with  a  click.  "  Now  let's  check  up.  You  keep 
count  on  your  fingers.  Loss  first :  One  brown  suede  bag 
to  go  with  the  tan  challis — my  best  and  other  dress. 
Three-twenty-five  in  real  money — the  frugal  savings  of  a 
lifetime.  One  rabbit's  foot  that  didn't  work.  My  ticket 
to  Dennison.  One  pair  of  ninety-eight-cent  shoes  on  the 
blink;  my  birthday  socks,  ditto;  one  pair  of  heels,  ditto 
and  blistered.  Credit :  one  whopping  big  adventure.  Me 
for  the  marathon !  " 

19.  She  sprang  np,  but  wheeled,  stiffening,  and  brought 
her  hand  to  salute  with  a  pretty  and  unexpected  diffidence. 

20.  ''' Good-by,  soldier !    And — thank  you,  you  know!  " 

21.  She  swung  out  across  Vesper  Bridge  in  the  low 
sun,  her  resolute  little  mouth  turned  up  at  the  corners. 

eharminol}'  naive  and  tender. — With  par.  21  ends  the  openina:;  see 
S.  S.  M.,  122-129,  13G-142.  These  paragraphs  have :  1.  Intro- 
duced the  leading  person.  2.  Characterized  her  in  several  impor- 
tant matters ;  so  that  much  of  the  remaining  characterization  will 
merely  amplify  this  outline.  3.  Caught  interest  by  immediately 
employing  activity.  4.  Begun  the  action  (1)  by  showing  a  natural 
reason  why  the  actor  should  be  in  the  present  locale,  and  (2)  by 
introducing  a  plausible  pre-eomplieation  (wristbag)  to  bring  on 
the  conditions  that  produce  the  main  complication.  5.  Struck  the 
keynote.  The  tone  of  the  story  will  largely  be  that  of  frank,  gen- 
erous unconventionality  surrounded  by  mean  suspicion  and  stupid 
dullness,  and  of  unselfish  though  independent  character  in  con- 
trast with  selfishness  and  hypocritical  morality.  6.  Presented 
some  exposition — indicated  Martha's  industrial  and  social  status, 
her  temperament  (and  something  of  her  human  depths),  and  the 
preliminary  events  out  of  which  the  action  is  to  grow. 


A  Ragtime  Lady  73 

22.  A  gray  ribbon  of  road  stretched  on  and  on  into  the 
luminous  dusk.  The  dust  of  its  groaning,  ground  and 
harried  by  swift  wheels,  lay  thick  and  powdery ;  the  girl 
shunned  the  beaten  track.  Bareheaded,  all  in  white — 
even  to  stockings  and  canvas  shoes — she  merged  with  the 
pulsing  night,  swinging  along  with  boyish  vigor.  Low 
above  the  meadows  the  fireflies  glowed  and  danced ;  over- 
head the  stars  swam  in  haze,  dim  reflections  of  these  earth- 
born  myriads.  Afar  off  a  whippoorwill  wailed  mourn- 
fully. From  beyond  the  road  fence  came  the  harsh  tonk 
of  a  cowbell,  and  nearer  the  soft  gurgle  of  a  sunken  brook. 

23.  Eeckless,  carefree,  star-mad,  obsessed  with  youth, 
the  girl  sang,  against  the  loneliness  of  the  unhoused  way : 

*' Fiddle  up!  Fiddle  up!  on  your  violin! 
Lay  right  on  it;  i-est  your  chin  upon  it — 
Doggone,  you  better  begin '"'' 

24.  Enormous  and  malignant  eyes  blinked  over  a  dis- 
tant swell ;  the  melody  snapped  off.  The  sinister  eyes 
dipped  downward,  long  quivering  bars  of  white  light  rend- 
ing the  darkness.  They  flashed  near,  dropped  from  sight 
in  a  little  hollow  and  swooped  up,  the  cut-out  motor  bark- 
ing staccato.  The  girl  drew  aside — the  white  glare  beat 
upon  her. 


22-23.  Here  begins  the  first  movement  proper.  On  the  placing 
of  descriptive  matter  in  the  position  here  given  it  (par.  22),  see 
S.  S.  M.,  165-167.  Analyze  the  paragraphs  for  their  color,  light, 
motion,  sound,  and  mood  qualities,  and  the  terms  that  produce 
them. 

24-28  (31).  Is  this  plot  incident  or  amplifying  incident 
(S.  S.  M.,  107  ff.)  ?  Does  it,  with  pars.  29-33,  serve  a  purpose  in 
giving  the  impression  of  elapsed  time?  That  is,  if  pars.  21-33 
were  dropped  out,  would  the  young  man  in  the  wagon  seem  to  be 


Vi  Today's  Short  Stortks  Anat.yzed 

25.  There  was  but  one  man  iu  the  Imgc  hooded  car. 
As  it  roared  by  a  wanton  voice  floated  back : 

26.  "  Oh,  you  Bright  Eyes !    You  look  good  to  muh !  " 

27.  "Lobster!" 

28.  The  word  was  a  hissing  bolt.  The  worst  thing 
about  profanity  is  its  iiselessness. 

29.  A  cloud  of  dust  rolled  back,  choking — powdered 
the  white  gown  to  a  dull  gray.  Turning  resentfully,  the 
girl  saw  the  lights  of  a  second  car  beyond  the  first — a  car 
coming  from  Vesper.  A  hundred  yards  back  she  would 
have  hailed  this  homeward  car  to  demand  a  lift  for  cause ; 
but  that  wanton  voice  echoed  insolently  to  her  ear. 

30.  "  Guess  I'll  stick  to  the  walking,  soldier,"  she  said 
aloud. 

31.  The  cars,  two  hundred  yards  apart,  fused  head- 
lights. In  the  white-lit  space  between,  gleaming  black, 
clear-cut,  hung  a  team  of  horses,  a  plunging  wagon,  a  man 
braced  against  the  reins.  A  leaping  blackness  blotted  out 
the  driver  as  the  off  horse  stood  straight  up,  looming  mon- 
strous in  the  double  light. 

32.  The  cars  throbbed  on,  passed  each  other ;  the  lunging 
horses  were  swallowed  up  in  darkness.  Martha  scaled 
the  high  bank  beyond  the  ditch— -that  team  might  be  run- 
ning away.  When  the  eastward  car  shot  past  she  heard 
the  whimper  of  a  fretting  child,  caught  the  outline  of  a 
woman's  hat. 

33.  "  There !  "  she  said.  "  Only  for  that  fresh  gink 
I'd  have  got  a  ride.     Oh,  well!  " 


rushed  into  the  story  just  because  the  author  needed  him?  Now, 
he  seems  to  enter,  quite  naturally,  as  one  of  the  numerous  travelers 
along  this  road.  Obsei've  the  touch  of  contrast  between  him  and 
the  "Lobster!" 


A  Ragtime  Lady  75 

34.  She  kept  to  the  grassy  bank;  the  gay  refrain  lilted 
to  her  lips : 

" Hurrij  up!  Hurry  up!  with  your  violin! 
Make  it  sooner — don't  you  stop  to  tune  'er, 
Fid — fid — fid — fddle  in  the  middle 
Of  your  ragtime  violin!  " 

35.  Quick  hoofs  plumped  in  the  dust,  drew  even,  held 
up  sharply. 

36.  "  Hey,  ghost !    Want  to  ride  and  rest  your  wings  ?  " 

37.  "  Won't  I,  just  ?  "  said  Martha,  for  the  voice  was 
a  good  voice.  She  fluttered  down  from  the  bank.  "  Nix 
on  that  Sir  Walter  thing!  You  hold  the  jumping-jack 
horse — I'll  get  in.    .    .    .   Home,  coachman !  " 

38.  "  I  don't  believe  you're  a  ghost  at  all,"  said  the 
voice,  doubtful  and  rather  aggrieved.  "  You  make  the 
springs  creak." 

39.  "  Hundred  and  thirty-eight  in  the  shade,"  said 
Martha  complacently. 

40.  "  Well,  I'm  going  to  look,  anyway.  You  hold  these 
reins." 

41.  A  match  grated  and  flamed.  She  was  a  tall  girl, 
but  she  had  to  look  up,  which  she  did  with  admirable  com- 
posure. 


35-56.  With  par.  35  comes  the  second  generating  circumstance 
(cf.  pars.  11-14) — that  of  the  action  proper. — In  this  and  the  fol- 
lowing paragraph  are  good  instances  of  distributed  description. — 
The  conception  of  the  character  of  each  of  these  two  persons  will 
repay  study.  In  what  essential  qualities  are  the  two  alike?  What 
is  it  in  their  temperament  and  nature  that  causes  them  at  once 
to  take  this  attitude  of  good-fellowship  toward  each  other? 
What  fundamental  quality  is  it  that  prevents  this  byplay  of  per- 


7G  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

42.  She  saw  a  wt'll-sliaped  head,  rather  small  for  the 
broad  shoulders ;  blue  eyes,  at  once  quizzical  and  puzzled ; 
good  cars  and  mouth ;  a  puggy  and  much-freckled  nose ;  and 
dark  auburn  hair,  curling  willfully  despite  its  shortness. 
The  match  nipped  his  fingers. 

43.  ''Ouch! — and  so  forth!"  he  remarked  in  some 
haste,  and  added  gloomily :  "  Girl — shucks !  "  Then  he 
sighed. 

44.  "  Ever  try  cold  cream  ? "  said  Martha  sympa- 
thetically. 

45.  In  the  starlight  she  saw  his  hands  rub  the  freckled 
nose  thoughtfully.     He  took  the  reins  from  her. 

46.  "  Cold  cream  won't  do  freckles  any  good — they  just 
won't  spread  and  I  can't  make  'em,"  he  answered  dis- 
mally. "  But  even  these  few  are  some  help."  He  sighed 
again. 

47.  Martha  required  a  little  time  to  digest  this. 

48.  "  Oh,  I  see !  The  girls  persecute  you,  poor  dear  I 
Do  they  call  you  Curly  ?    You  ought  to  keep  a  dog." 

49.  "  No  use — they  poison  him  !  "  said  the  disconsolate 
voice.  "  This  fatal  gift  of  beauty — "  With  a  manly 
effort  he  fought  his  emotion  down  and  began  anew : 
"  Smooth,  oval  face " 

50.  "  Smooth,  oval  fiddlestick !  Why,  your  face  is  as 
round  as  an  apple." 


sonal  comment  in  these  paragraphs  from  striking  the  reader  as 
mere  raw  and  vulgar  flirtation?  Go  back  to  the  beginning  and 
examine  all  the  passages  that  help  to  characterize  Martha  (includ- 
ing pars.  24-28)  ;  notwithstanding  her  slang,  is  she  anything  but 
a  modest  self-respecting,  sensitive,  and  refined  girl?  Cf.  S.  S.  M., 
217:4;  209-212;  214,  end  of  par.  7;  227:14^  51:16.  Observe 
then  that  scarcely  a  word  of  direct  interpretive  matter  has  been 
employed;  the  character  has  been  indicated  entirely  through  act 


A  Ragtime  Lady  77 

51.  "  Yours "  said  Curly,  undisturbed.     He  went 

on  in  a  dreamy  monotone :  "  Complexion  good,  but  dusty 
— a  little  too  white — looks  like  the  tired  kind  of  white ; 
ripping  hair — also  rippling — brown  and  heaps  of  it — 
blacky-brown ;  a  ki — competent  mouth  and  chin ;  dark  eye- 
brows— passable !  " 

52.  "  My  eyelashes  are  considered  rather  good.  Did 
you  notice  them  ?  "  said  Martha  anxiously. 

53.  "  Lashes ;  big  eyes,  wide  apart,  golden  brown.  Why 
are  the  little  skipping  lights  ?  " 

54.  "  Meek  eyes — like  a  trained  seal,"  said  Martha  in 
lieu  of  answer. 

55.  "  Meek  in  appearance,  but  with  little  skipping 
lights,  unexplained;  nose  unbroken.  Girl  from  the  sum- 
mer camp,  probably.  Bicycle  smashed — something  like 
that." 

56.  "Wrong  number!  Come  down  to  the  footlights, 
marquis,  and  hear  my  strange  story  while  the  orchestra 
plays  the  Suwanee  River,  all  shivery-quivery-quavery !  " 

57.  "  To  Dennison  ?  At  night  ? "  interrupted  the 
marquis  when  the  strange  story  had  got  so  far.  "  Well, 
you  just  nicely  won't !  " 


and  speech. — Consider  further  in  this  connection  that  the  lan- 
guage of  Martha  would  usually  tend  to  create  an  atmosphere 
rather  coarse  or  vulgar;  but  here  the  atmosphere  material  is 
found  so  largely  in  the  characterizing  facts  that  the  element  of 
coai'seness  is  missing — showing  that  dialect,  which  is  accidental, 
is  not  a  certain  indicator  of  character,  which  is  essential.  That 
is,  dialect  is  an  intensifying  or  mdividualizing  device;  in  our 
story,  it  is  part  also  of  the  social  exposition  (it  suggests  the 
extraneous  social  status  of  the  person). 

57.    An    inexperienced    writer   would   quite    likely    have   made 
Martha  actually  recount  the  facts  anew — a  deadly  mistake. 


78  Today's  Short  Stories  Axalyzed 

58.  ''  Oh,  tell  that  to  the  sheltered-life  dames !  "  she 
scoffed.  "  God  can  take  care  of  them  and  I'll  take  care  of 
myself.     I'm  a  working  girl — a  factory  girl." 

59.  "  You're  a  girl,"  corrected  the  unmoved  marquis, 
"  and  you're  going  straight  home  with  me — to  my  aunt." 

GO.  "  I've  already  been  called  a  bareheaded  baggage 
once  today,"  said  Martha  with  spirit.  "  That  welcome  on 
the  mat — why,  you  poor  ninny,  no  nephew's  aunt  would 
mean  that  for  me !    How  stupid  men  are !  " 

61.  "  Eedheaded  nephew's  aunts  are  different,"  ex- 
plained Curly. 

62.  "  Oh,  I'm  going  on  to  Dennison.  I'll  be  all  right. 
Where's  the  harm  ?  Why,  I  dance  twenty-two  miles  every 
Saturday  night.  This  little  walk  can't  feaze  me.  Honest, 
curlyhead,  I  couldn't  do  it.  I'm  scared  stiff  of  aunts,  even 
when  they  belong  to  red-headed  nephews." 

63.  "  So  that's  settled,"  said  the  placid  driver.  "  You 
go  home  with  me.  We  quit  the  river  road  just  beyond 
here.  About  half  past  nine  we  do  a  little  experiment  with 
cold  beef,  bread,  milk,  strawberries,  cream " 


58.  Not  irreverent,  but  a  fine  flash  of  characterization — an 
exploding  flash-light  of  class  feeling.  (Observe  now,  too,  that  in 
pars.  35-56  part  of  the  character-conception  is  based  on  class  traits 
— the  natural  readiness  of  young  i^eople  of  the  industrial  class 
rather  than  the  "  polite  "  circles,  to  meet  each  other  on  a  frankly 
personal  level.  Certain  ranks  of  society  shun  this  attitude.  It 
is  a  matter,  therefore,  partly  of  class  standards.  See  S.  S.  M., 
209-211.) 

61.  First  hint  of  the  aunt's  character.  It  is  direct  assertion, 
but  kept  from  appearing  so  by  being  put  in  the  mouth  of  a  person 
in  the  story  (S.S.M.,  212-214). 

62.  A  new  element  in  Martha's  character — shrinking  from 
unsympathetic  criticism,  even  though,  as  we  have  seen,  she  is  not 
afraid  to  be  independent.  Another  indication  that  she  is  a  girl 
of  sensitive  feelings.    For  others,  see  pars.  17,  20,  30,  33. 


A  Eagtime  Lady  79 

64.  Martha  caught  his  coatsleeve  with  both  hands  and 
looked  at  him  earnestly. 

65.  "  Oh,  say  those  heavenly  words  again !  "  she  begged. 
"  Goodness,  Agnes !  I'm  that  hungTy  I  could  eat  patent 
food !  " 

66.  It  is  odd  how  one  things  brings  on  another.  The 
horses  quickened  their  pace  as  the  turn  of  road  and  con- 
versation reminded  them  of  mangers;  the  ringing  hoofs 
beat  to  strong  cadence;  and  Curly  joined  in  the  merry 
stave : 

"  Somebody  s  hat  am  a-Jiangin  on  the  rack  where  my  hat 
used  to  he; 
Somebody's  face  am  a-fiirtim  with  a  fork  that  oughta  he 
a-feedin'  me." 


II. 

67.  "  I  might  stay  for  a  stop-gap,"  said  Martha  doubt- 
fully. "  But  there's  three  things  I  don't  like  to  do — 
churn,  turn  the  grindstone,  and  work.    Only  for  that " 

68.  A  flame-colored  sun  peered  over  a  rim  of  hill. 
Martha  fluttered  with  excitement.     "  Oh,  isn't  he  early  ? 


67.  Second  movement  begins.  Observe  the  immediate  opening, 
with  distributed  setting  as  the  action  proceeds.  The  first  plot  inci- 
dent of  this  movement  continues  to  par.  83. 

68.  Characterization  that  helps  toward  a  satisfying  outcome.  A 
natural  question  for  the  thinking  reader  to  ask  about  the  pos- 
sible match  between  Martha  and  Coburn  is,  will  this  girl,  from 
the  gayeties  (such  as  they  are)  and  environment  of  the  shoe- 
manufacturing  town,  make  Coburn  happy  or  be  happy  herself 
on  the  farm.     This  paragraph  partly  removes  our  doubt.     See 


80  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Did  you  sec  that  ?    lie  just  jumped  up  and  shook  himself! 
This  beats  fireworks !    Does  it  happen  often  ?  " 

69.  "  About  this  time  every  morning — except  legal 
holidays.  And  if  you  stay,"  said  Aunt  Harry  dryly, 
"  I  will  nuikc  it  a  point  to  see  that  you  don't  miss 
a  performance.  You  don't  get  up  early  at  Denni- 
son?" 

70.  "'  When  I  worked  in  the  factory  I  had  just  time 
before  seven  to  breakfast  on  a  few  kind  words  and  an 
orange ;  when  I  sang  for  the  movies  I  bounced  up  at 
eleven ;  and  when  I  worked  at  the  hotel  I  didn't  go  to  bed 
at  all." 

71.  "  Well,  make  up  your  mind,"  said  Aunt  Harry 
over  a  clatter  of  dishes.  "  Coburn  has  to  meet  the  ten- 
thirty  train.  You  can  go  with  him  or  you  can  send  for 
your  clothes." 

72.  "  Let's  see — this  is  Saturday.  If  I  do  a  go  for 
Dennison  I  get  to  see  the  double-header  this  afternoon; 
but  I'd  like  to  stay  here,  at  that.    It's  all  new  stuff  to  me." 

73.  ''  Maybe  you'd  think  housework  beneath  your  dig- 
nity ?  " 

74.  '*•  Thunder  and  lightning! — excuse  me,  I  mean 
dewdrops  and  crocuses.  I  see  you  never  worked  in  a  fac- 
tory."   Martha  hesitated ;  her  pulses  stirred  to  the  breath 


also  pars.  68,  74,  118,  148.  This  is  not  exactly  motivation  of 
the  action,  but  it  is  motivation  of  the  final  effect — an  adjustment 
of  all  the  elements  of  the  situation  to  produce  a  final  agreement 
(see  S.  S.  M.,  180-183). 

69.  From  this  point  on,  cliaracterization  of  Aunt  Harry  occurs 
frequently  (distributed). — Observe  how  the  nickname  "Aunt 
Harry  "  fits  the  virile  personality  of  the  lady. 

70.  Another  portion  of  distributed  exposition — Martha's  back- 
grounds. 


A  Ragtime  Lady  81 

of  roses,  of  pine-needles,  the  clean  warm  smell  of  fresh- 
turned  earth.  A  stretch  of  deep  and  misty  valley  framed 
broad  in  the  window,  far  and  still,  a  glimpse  of  white 
Windsor  shouldering  through  the  haze,  and  a  clear  river 
curving  away  to  dimness.  "  But,  honest,  I  don't  know 
beans !  I  can  wash  dishes  and  make  fudge,  and  that's 
about  my  limit." 

75.  "  I'll  teach  you,"  said  Aunt  Harry  reassuringly. 
"  I've  told  you  what  I  pay.  'Tisn't  much — less  than  half 
what  you  earn  making  shoes,  I  guess." 

76.  "  And  board !  "  Martha's  nose  gave  a  grateful 
little  twitch  for  steaming  coffee  and  spluttering  ham. 
"  I'm  real  fond  of  food,  too.  Guess  I'll  sign  for  a 
tryout." 

77.  "  If  you're  sure  you  know  what  you  want,"  said 
Aunt  Harry  tartly,  "  I  don't  mind  saying  that  a  little 
country  air  will  do  you  a  power  of  good.  You  look  like 
skim  milk." 

78.  "  Yes'm — freckles  are  real  becoming.  I've  noticed 
that.  I'd  get  a  nice  grist  from  the  strawberry  picking. 
But  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  seem  to  have  the 
knack  of  holding  a  job.  Guess  I'm  a  new-broom  girl." 
She  spoke  solemnly,  and  Aunt  Harry  stole  time  for  a  quick 
look. 

79.  "  Well,  child,  if  you  only  stay  through  the  straw- 
berry season  it  will  be  a  sight  of  help — I'll  be  as  honest 
with  you  that  far.  The  menfolks  are  rushed  off  their  feet 
and  everything  is  left  to  me.  But,  mind,  you'll  have  more 
housework  than  berry  picking.  City  cousins  are  coming. 
They  always  do — to  save  us  from  handling  so  many  straw- 
berries." 

80.  "  I'm  your  man.     I'll  write  a  card  for  my  duds. 


82  Toi>ay's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Let's  see — how'll  I  put  it  ?  '  Dear  mother :  Please  pack 
my  little  old  suitcase  and  send  it  to  Windsor,  care  of 
Curly's  aunt.'  " 

81.  "  Bless  my  soul !  "  said  Curly's  aunt.  "  Forgot 
that  last  night,  didn't  we  ?  I'm  Harriet  Hall.  Xow,  you 
go  call  the  menfolks  to  breakfast  and  I'll  introduce  you." 

82.  From  the  porch  Martha  called  in  a  clear  bell-note : 

83.  "Au-bur-n-n!" 

84.  "  You  know  I'm  not  one  to  meddle,  Harriet — I 
never  was !  "  Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix  settled  her  plump  per- 
son in  a  rocking  chair.  "  But  it  really  did  seem,  bein'  in 
the  place  of  a  mother  to  him  as  you  are,  you  ought  to  know 
about  Coburn  Hall's  scandalous  goin's-ou  !  Lottie  thought 
so,  too." 

85.  "  Ye-s,"  said  Aunt  Harry  reflectively.  "  Lottie 
would." 


80-81.  Observe  here  and  throughout  bow  the  tone  of  Martha's 
talk  is  preserved  (unity  of  atmosphere).  Note  the  skill  with  which 
the  purely  matter-of-fact  is  introduced — not  plumped  at  us  baldly, 
but  so  worked  in  that  it  is  actually  part  of  an  interesting  passage 
of  characterizing-  dialogue.  Moreover,  the  situation  so  revealed — 
that  these  delightfully  informal  folk  forgot  the  immaterial  matter 
of  mere  names- — is  itself  a  side-light  on  their  character.  Little 
minds  would  think  about  names;  big-souled  folk  think  of  essen- 
tial, not  accidental,  matters.  Euphemia  Mix  would  have  had  the 
matter  of  names  settled  five  minutes  after  the  wagon  drove  up. 

84.  The  second  plot  incident  of  the  movement,  beginning  here, 
continues  to  par.  99.     Note  again  the  direct  beginning. 

85.  Three  words  of  dialogue  and  four  describing  the  manner  of 
the  speaker,  are  enough  to  tell  us  (1)  that  Lottie  has  her  cap 
set  for  Coburn;  (2)  that  she  probably  is  a  schemer,  as  Mrs. 
Mix  is;  (3)  that  Aunt  Harry  understands  them  thoroughly;  and 
(4)  that  she  is  quite  equal  to  Mrs.  Mix  in  any  contest  of  will  or 
wits.     It  is  largely  by  such  effective  compactness  that  the  short 


A  Ragtime  Lady  83 

86.  "  Of  course  we  couldn't  speak  to  Mr.  Hall  " — 
Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix  shuddered  at  the  thought — "  but  you 
can.  Harriet  Hall,  he  came  up  the  glen  road  last  night 
with  some  girl " 

87.  "  Mr,  Hall  ?  "  said  Aunt  Harry  tranquilly. 

88.  "  Goodness,  Harriet,  how  you  do  put  me  out ! 
Coburn,  of  course.  He  came  along  with  some  girl  about 
nine  o'clock.  Everybody  heard  'em  singin'  and  carryin' 
on  all  the  way  up  the  hill.  I  think  Mr.  Hall  ought  to  be 
told." 

89.  "  Well,  I  can  mention  it  if  you  insist ;  but  Coburn's 
twenty-one  and  I  doubt  if  John  would  interfere  anyhow; 
he  likes  singing  himself." 

90.  "  Harriet  Hall !  The  idea !  You  know  perfectly 
well  what  I  mean.  That  girl — she  was  none  of  the  neigh- 
bors' girls.  There  isn't  such  a  voice  on  the  hill.  Shame- 
less hussy !  " 

91.  "  Shameless  for  having  a  good  voice  or  because  she 
wasn't  born  on  Holley  Patent  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Harry. 

92.  "  ISTow  what  makes  you  so  provoking?  That 
woman ;  who  was  she  ?  " 

93.  "  Oh !  I  could  have  told  you  that ;  but  I  misunder- 
stood you.  I'm  a  little  deaf  in  one  ear,"  said  Aunt  Harry 
simply.     "  You  may  have  noticed  it.     I  was  beginning  to 


story,  although  limited  to  briefer  treatment,  often  attains  some- 
thing of  the  large  perspective  and  general  interpretive  scope  of 
the  novel. — Observe  the  hidden  fitness  of  the  names  "  Mix  "  and 
"  Euphemia." 

88.  Utters  in  dialogue  a  thorough  realization  of  a  petty,  vicious 
mind;  fine  characterization. 

93.  Study  the  characterizing  value  of  the  speech,  (1)  in  its 
shrewd  affectation  of  simplicity  and  misunderstanding,  and  its 
equally  shrewd,  though  covered,  thrust  at  Mrs.  Mix  on  the  side  of 


8-i  Today's  Siioirr  Stouies  Analyzed 

think  you  meant  to  complain  that  the  singing  woke  you 
uj).  1  have  to  go  to  bed  early  myself  now.  How  time  does 
go  ou,  doesn't  it  ?  "  She  settled  back  in  her  rocker,  com- 
fortably intent  on  her  knitting. 

94.  "  Harriet !  You  make  me  want  to  shake  you ! 
AYho  was  she  ?  " 

05.  "  Oh !  The  young  lady  ?  She  came  to  help  me 
through  the  strawberry  season.  Shall  I  tell  her  you 
praised  her  voice?  Or  perhaps  you  would  like  to  meet 
her?" 

9G.  Mrs,  Mix  was  almost  in  tears.  "  A  girl  that  would 
sing  songs  like  that ! — Put  Your  Arms  Around  me,  Honey! 
—Turn  Off  Your  Light,  Mr.  Moon  Man !  " 

97.  Aunt  Harry  rose — that  masculine  lady;  she  put 
her  knitting  aside  and  fixed  her  caller  with  a  satiric  eye. 

98.  "  Euphemia  Mix,  I  knew  you  when  you  were  a 
Calder ;  and  I'll  say  this  for  you — no  one  ever  heard  you 
singing  as  you  came  up  a  dark  road !    Don't  talk  to  me !  " 

99.  She  lacked  little  of  the  grenadier  except  the  shako. 

100.  "  Won't  your  mother  object  to  your  working  here, 


her  age;  (2)  in  helping  to  fix  our  opinion  of  Mrs.  Mix.  This 
indirect  characterization  becomes  pretty  direct  in  par.  98,  where 
Aunt  Harry's  speech  is  sharp  and  plain  in  its  implication.  This 
same  speech,  moreover,  has  the  indirect  effect  of  expressing  anew 
the  conclusion  about  Martha — that  as  she  sings  along  the  dark 
road,  and  girls  who  sing  in  such  circumstances  are  doing  nothing 
to  be  concealed,  Martha's  morals  are  to  be  trusted. 

100.  Here  begins  stage  three  of  the  second  movement;  it  con- 
tinues through  par.  111.  It  is  mainly  eoncei'ned  with  further  char- 
acter-exposition— Martha's  exaggerated  summary  of  the  character- 
forming  influences  of  her  experience  and  family  surroundings. 
Observe  once  more  that  her  account  of  herself  rather  increases 


A  Ragtime  Lady  85 

Miss  Menlick  ?      And   would   she  mind   if  I   smoked  ?  " 

101.  They  were  under  the  pine  trees  on  the  lawn.  No, 
that  is  a  mistake — the  trees  were  not  on  the  lawn;  the 
lawn  was  round  the  trees  and  was  built  to  fit  them.  Miss 
Menlick  delayed  her  reply  to  repeat  a  starbright  with 
earnest  faith. 

102.  '^  She'd  be  glad  to  get  me  away  from  the  bright 
lights !  "  It  was  said  with  a  simple  directness  worthy  of 
Aunt  Harriet  at  her  most  fearsome. 

103.  "  And  the  smoke «  " 

104.  "Silly!" 

105.  "  Don't  you  suppose  she  was  worried  about  you 
last  night  ?     Why  wouldn't  you  let  me  telephone  ?  " 

106.  "Worried?  Her?  What  for?"  Martha  brought 
her  eyes  from  the  stars  to  her  neighbor.  "  Like  as  not  she 
forgot  to  take  the  census — we're  a  Eoosevelt  family.  Even 
if  she  missed  me  she  probably  thought  I'd  got  a  job  some- 
where. Seems  like  I  never  hold  a  place  down,  .  .  . 
Long  distance,  please !  We  live  out  in  the  hoop-skirts  and 
we  don't  keep  a  'phone.  Of  course  I  might  have  called  up 
Biff  Lee — he  knows  the  way  to  our  house.  But  what's 
the  odds  ?    They  know  I  can  look  out  for  myself." 

107.  "  Biff  Lee  ?  "  Coburn's  tone  was  like  that  of  one 
who,  with  a  wrinkled  nose,  regards  a  noxious  insect. 

108.  "  Biff  ?  Best  batter  in  the  Shoestring  League. 
Good  old  Biff!"  said  Martha  cheerfully.  "Thought 
everyone  knew  Biff !  " 

109.  Coburn  flung  the  insect  aside. 


our  liking  for  her.  She  has  had  a  hard  time,  has  been  equal  to 
the  emergencies  she  met  (adaptabiUty — see  68),  and  has  evi- 
dently maintained  ideals,  sometimes  at  a  cost.  Moreover,  her 
disposition  has  kept  sweet — and  her  sense  of  humor  is  abounding. 


86  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

110.  "  So  you  don't  stay  in  one  place  long?  "  he  sug- 
gested. 

111.  "Long?  Honest,  Curly,  if  tliey  knew  about  me 
they'd  run  me  in  the  Sunday  Supplement :  Mournful  Mat- 
tie — She  Gets  Fired !  I've  been  in  'most  every  room  in 
the  shops;  I  can  make  the  whole  dinky  shoe,  from  hide  to 
wearer.  I've  been  fired  for  cutting  hours  and  fired  for 
cutting  leather ;  for  being  sassy  and  being  surly ;  fired  be- 
cause I  wouldn't  let  the  foreman  make  love  to  me  and  fired 
for  making  love  to  the  forearm  ;  fired  for  not  doing  enough 
work  and  for  doing  too  much  work — yes,  I  have !  That 
was  piecework.  I  fired  myself  from  the  hotel  because  the 
graveyard  was  so  crowded,  and  I  quit  the  cafeteria  for  a 
reason  I  had.  Then  the  nickelodeon — I  stayed  there  the 
longest — singing;  fired  only  last  week.  ...  I  busted  the 
piano  stool  over  the  professor's  head.  S'pose  that  had 
anything  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

III. 

112.  "  You  may  say  what  you  like,  Harriet,"  urged 
Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix.  "  I  tell  you  that  girl  can't  afford  to 
dress  the  way  she  does  on  what  you  pay  her." 

113.  "Think  so?" 

114.  "  I  know  it.  Whoever  heard  the  like — chambray 
and  French  gingham  for  working  clothes  ?  And  them 
short  sleeves !  " 

115.  "  Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  Aunt  Harry.  "  I'll 
raise  her  wa^es." 


112.  Third  movement  begins.  The  first  stage  extends  through 
par.  148.  Studying  the  opening,  observe  how  much  merely 
explanatory  narration  can  be  omitted. 


A  Ragtime  Lady  87 

116.  Mrs.  Eiij)heniia  bit  back  tears  of  vexation. 

117.  "  Harriet  Hall,  you're  just  bekacked  with  that 
good-for-nothing  gadabout — and  she  knows  as  much  about 
housekeeping  as  a  cat  does  about  Sunday." 

118.  "  She's  learning — not  fast  enough  to  shock  me, 
maybe ;  but  I  like  her  and  I  like  her  'pretty  dresses,  too. 
She  sort  of  lightens  up  the  old  place.  I  wouldn't  have 
her  any  different.  I  like  to  see  her  round.  So  does 
John." 

119.  "  Oh,  I  dare  say — and  Coburn,  too !  " 

120.  "  And  Coburn,  too."  Aunt  Harry  serenely  clicked 
her  needles.  "  We  like  to  hear  them  sing — John 
and  I." 

121.  "  You're  as  blind  as  a  bat !  Harriet  Hall,  do  you 
know  that  bold-faced  piece  sang  in  the  moving-picture 
shows  at  Dennison  ?  " 

122.  "  So  she  says." 

123.  "  And  was  discharged  for  improper  conduct  ?  " 

124.  "So  you  say." 


112-138.  Besides  developing  the  action,  these  paragraphs  con- 
tribute much  tone  material — the  part  of  the  atmosphere  that  hjs 
the  subjective  coloring  of  small-minded  suspicion  and  maUcious 
hypocrisy.  The  same  is  true  of  pars.  84-99.  In  all  this,  too,  is 
the  effect  of  contrast;  for  Aunt  Harry  is  directly  opposed  to 
Mrs.  Mix,  as  a  type  of  the  militantly  generous-minded,  and 
Martha  (and  to  some  extent  Coburn)  are  indirectly  in  contrast 
with  the  Mix-Halliday  type.  Incidentally,  in  these  two  episodes 
we  may  consider  Aunt  Harry,  in  character  quality,  a  foil  to 
Mrs.  Mix  (S.  S.M.,  69). 

124.  See  close  of  par.  111.  The  reader  knows,  though  Aunt 
Harry  does  not,  part  of  the  circumstances,  and  has  guessed  the 
others;  therefore  he  is  in  position  to  judge  the  accuracy  of  Mrs. 
Mix's  words,  and  appreciate  Aunt  Harry's  remark,  together  with 
its  revelation  of  character  in  each  of  the  women.  At  this  point, 
we  may  note  that  in  this  story  the  authors  permit  their  attitude  to 


88  Today's  Siiokt  Stokies  Analyzed 

125.    This  was  too  inncli  even  for  Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix. 
She  rose,  shaking, 

12G.    "  I  suppose  you'd  take  her  word  against  mine!  " 

127.  Aunt  Harry  counted  her  stitches. 

128.  "  Did  you  discharge  her  yourself,  Euphemia,  or 
did  someone  tell  you  about  it  ?  " 

129.  "  I   knew  you'd  take  some  such  stand   as  this. 


the  persons  to  appear  (S.  S.  M.,  212-214).  Study  the  methods 
by  which  they  create  a  subjective  colorins;  that  reveals  this  atti- 
tude. For  instance,  throughout  the  introduction  of  Martha  (pars. 
1-21),  the  descriptions  have  an  admiring:  quality,  although  they 
are  almost  entirely  objective — somehow  they  give  one  the  impres- 
sion that  the  authors  chose  them  with  a  sort  of  caressing  desire 
to  make  them  fit  the  girl  and  picture  her  forth  as  she  appeared 
to  them.  In  pars.  19-21  come  adjectives  of  direct  indication — 
"  pretty  and  unexpected  diffidence  " ;  "  resolute  little  mouth."  So 
far  as  Martha  is  concerned,  this  sympathy,  showing  throughout 
the  story,  is  most  discernible  in  the  zest  with  which  she  is  por- 
trayed and  characterized;  "reckless,  care-free,  star-mad,  obsessed 
with  youth  "  (par.  23),  she  is  presented  enthusiastically  as  if  she 
embodied  qualities  that  the  authors  greatly  like.  And  the  spirit 
of  this  is  so  strong  that  it  catches  and  fills  the  readei*.  Rightly 
understood,  the  "  author's  view  of  life  "  can  always  be  conveyed 
—and  conveyed  by  artistic  means — through  his  story.  See 
S.  S.  M.,  196-198,  245  (last  7  lines  ff.),  246  (middle  to  end).  This 
story  is  full  of  a  spirit  of  enthusiasm  for  frankness,  honest  uncon- 
ventionality,  kindness,  generosity,  tolerance,  beauty  (of  heart, 
person,  and  nature)  ;  but  the  student  will  have  to  look  close  to 
find  outward  expressions  of  this  fact. 

129-139.  The  basic  source  of  interest  is  suspense  (S.  S.  M.,  134, 
20-21).  The  basic  source  of  suspense  is  uncertainty,  and  uncer- 
tainty arises  always  from  conflict.  The  episode  in  these  para- 
graphs is  a  conflict,  or  struggle,  between  two  persons  and  between 
the  two  types  of  character  and  views  of  life  represented  by  these 
persons.  Similarly,  many  episodes  and  incidents  in  dramatic 
fiction — especially  plot  incidents — themselves  consist  of  struggle 
or  conflict.  Determine  what  tlie  nature  of  the  struggle  is,  and 
between  what  persons,  forces,  ideas,  etc.,  it  takes  place,  in  pars. 


A  Ragtime  Lady  89 

Harriet  Hall,  you've  put  me  down  mighty  often  and 
snubbed  me  off  short;  but  this  time  I've  got  you  where 
you  can't  help  being  convinced."  Malice  gleamed  in  the 
beady  little  eyes.  "  I  never  was  one  to  be  inquisitive;  but 
when  I  run  up  here  last  week  to  look  over  the  Vesper  Bell 
I  couldn't  help  noticing  the  police  items  had  been  cut  out. 
I  kept  it  in  the  back  of  my  head,  and  when  we  took  the 
eggs  to  Vesper  yesterday  I  went  to  the  Bell  office  and  got 
last  week's  copy.  I  want  you  should  see  it."  She  brought 
the  paper  from  her  folded  shawl  with  a  triumphant 
flourish.     "  Read  that,  will  you  ?  " 

130.  "  You  read  it  to  me,"  said  Aunt  Harry.  "  I'll 
tend  to  my  knitting." 

131.  So  Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix  read,  with  vindictive 
emphasis : 

132.  "Edward  Blossom  pleaded  guilty  in  police  court 
yesterday  to  petit  larceny,  having  stolen  a  gold  watch 
valued  at  forty  dollars,  belonging  to  Mrs.  S.  A.  Halliday, 
proprietress  of  the  Halliday  Hotel.  The  watch  was  found 
in  a  West  Avenue  pawnshop,  and  when  Blossom  was  taken 
into  custody  he  confessed  that  he  took  the  timepiece  from 
Mrs.  Halliday's  room  on  Friday  evening  of  last  week. 
Mrs.  Halliday  had  not  suspected  Blossom,  her  star 
boarder,  but  had  sworn  out  a  warrant  for  Sally  Menlick, 
a  wayward  girl  who  was  discharged  by  Mrs.  Halliday  the 
day  the  watch  disappeared.  The  Menlick  girl  was  already 
on  probation  from  the  juvenile  court  at  Dennison.  Blos- 
som was  sentenced  to  six  months'  imprisomnent  in  jail." 

133.  "  Well  ?  "  said  Aunt  Harry. 


1-7,  11-21,  G7-80,  149-172;  and  find  others.  (Is  there  any  element 
of  struggle  or  contest,  in  pars.  37-65?  How  is  it  settled?  Does 
the  outcome  in  any  degree  forecast  the  outcome  of  the  story?) 


DO  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

131.  "  Ain't  that  cnoiigh  ?  ISTow  you  see  the  kind  of  a 
i;irl  vonr  precious  Martha  Menlick  is!  " 

134.  "  T  don't  seem  to  follow  you,"  said  Aunt  Harry 
humbly.     "  I  thought  you  said  Sally  Menliek  ?  " 

135.  "  So  I  did.  But  you  don't  want  the  sister  of 
such  a  creature  as  that  hanging  round  you !  No  knowing 
what  she'll  take." 

136.  '^  Exactly.  If  three  times  three  is  eleven,  three 
times  eleven  is  eighty-six.  Just  so !  "  Aunt  Harry  rose 
with  the  briskly  unmistakable  air  of  one  Avho  terminates 
an  interview;  she  appropriated  the  Vesper  Bell  as  con- 
traband of  war.  "  I'll  light  the  supper  fire  with  this. 
Excuse  me  for  not  being  surprised,  Euphemia.  I  cut 
that  little  item  out  of  the  Vesper  Bell  myself !  " 

136.  "AYhat!  You  stand  up  for  such  rubbish  as  that 
— and  you  a  respectable  woman !  " 

137.  The  respectable  woman  snapped  her  fingers. 

138.  "  That  for  Pheb'  Halliday !  She  accuses  a  girl 
of  theft;  the  accusation  is  proved  false,  and  you  blister 
your  feet  and  your  tongue  telling  it  for  true.  Respectable 
woman !     Bah !  " 

139.  With  such  peroration,  this  estimable  lady,  more 
grenadier-grim  than  ever — if  ever  a  grenadier  wore  steel 
spectacles  and  a  Little  Orphant  Annie  apron — bore  down 
upon  her  shrinking  foe,  apparently  intent  upon  physical 
violence.  Whether  such  were  indeed  her  design,  or  some 
more  diplomatic  measure,  can  never  be  known.  Mrs. 
Euphemia  Mix  opened  her  mouth  once,  thought  better  of 
it,  and  flung  herself  through  the  door,  dismayed  and 
dumb. 

140.  Aunt  Harry  laid  the  fire  with  an  unwonted  vigor 
of  lid  and  lifter  that  verged  upon  the  profane;  in  which 


A  Ragtime  Lady  91 

duty  she  became  aware  of  a  tall,  white  Martha  at  the 
pantry  door. 

141.  "  I  heard  every  word,  Mrs.  Hall.  You're — ^you're 
very  good  to  me.  I  appreciate  it.  I'm  grateful  to  you 
for  all  your  kindness — indeed  I  am — but  hadn't  I  bet- 
ter go  ? " 

142.  Aunt  Harry  scowled  ferociously. 

143.  "  And  the  house  full  of  company  next  week  ? 
Let  me  catch  you  at  it !  Grateful  your  granny !  Hark ! 
Because  I  like  to  cross  and  bedevil  Euphemia  Mix  ?  That 
woman  just  naturally  sets  my  teeth  on  edge.  You 
needn't  flatter  yourself  'twas  on  your  account — except  that 
I  need  your  help  for  a  while.    You  go  peel  the  potatoes !  " 

144.  "  Aunt  Harry  !  "  Martha  used  the  term  quite  un- 
consciously and  for  the  first  time.  A  runaway  tear  trickled 

down   her   freckly   nose.      "  Did   you — you   didn't " 

With  a  quick  step  she  hid  her  burning  face  in  Aunt 
Harry's  martial  bosom.  "  It  w^asn't  you  who  cut  that 
story  from  the  Vesper  Bell,  was  it — really  ?  " 

145.  "  My  word !  "  said  the  scandalized  grenadier,  and 
she  groped  for  adequate  comment.  The  pressure  of  warm 
young  arms  was  not  wholly  unpleasant.  "  You  heard 
what  I  told  Euphemia  Mix,  didn't  you?  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do — own  up  that  I  lied  ?  "  The  arms  con- 
veyed an  insulting  affirmative.     "Well!  Well!"     To  her 


143.  Many  persons  conceal  their  feehngs  by  devices  similar  to 
Aunt  Harry's;  hence  the  truthfulness  of  characterization  under- 
lying her  speech. 

144-148.  Preliminary  to  crisis ;  the  action  has  risen  to  the  point 
"where  the  love  of  Martha  is  revealed,  and  that  of  Coburn  clearly 
indicated.  In  pars.  149-172  we  get  the  crisis  of  this  movement, 
which  is  one  of  the  two  main  crises  of  the  story.  Pars,  144-147 
are  the  outcome-paragraphs  of  this  stage  of  movement  3. 


92  Tooay's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

great  astonishment,  Aunt  Harry  observed  that  her  own 
hand  was  bestowing  surreptitious  and  awkward  pats  on 
Martha's  rounded  arm.  Shamefaced  and  incredulous  she 
glared  at  the  offender.  "  As  Euphemia  would  say,  I 
never  was  one  to  grudge  a  good  lie  in  season.  You  go  get 
those  potatoes !  " 

146.  At  the  potato  bin  Martha  shook  aside  an  angry  tear. 

147.  "  Curly  did  it — for  me !  "  she  whispered  to  her- 
self happily.     Then  she  drooped. 

148.  "  You  ?  "  she  scoffed.  "  You  silly,  slangy  little 
dunce !  Not  good  enough  !  You — You — doing  a  Weepin' 
Winnie ! — agoing  into  a  clinch  with  that  dame  and  givin' 
the  snap  away — you  make  me  sick !  Do  you  want  to  pull 
him  down  to  your  level  ?  Beat  it,  you  little  fool !  Beat 
it — see !  " 

149.  "  S'matter,  pop  ?  " 

150.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen  in  the  mellow  glow  from 
the  hall  lamp  that  something  was  the  matter.  There  was 
more  than  anger  in  the  boy's  puzzled  eyes ;  the  bewilder- 
ment of  a  faithful  collie  who  has  felt  injustice  for  the 
first  time  and  does  not  believe  it  possible. 

151.  "  I  guess  you  know.    That  she-poison-pedler " 

152.  "Mrs.  Mix?" 

153.  Coburn's  guardian  angel  sighed.    Martha  laughed. 


149-172.  Stage  2  of  movement  3,  and  the  most  intense  stage  of 
the  story,  being  the  part  in  which  the  opposing  forces  in  the 
critical  period  of  Martha's  Ufe  that  this  story  covers,  subject  her 
to  the  fiercest  struggle. 

153.  Why?  Even  speech  can  be  made  clear  by  suggestion. 
What  did  Coburn  say?  Is  it  as  effective  in  his  own  words  as  it  is 
in  this  indirect  presentation?  Why  did  Martha  laugh?  Theoretical 
morality  and  wholesome  human  nature  are  contrasted  here:  how? 


A  Ragtime  Lady  93 

154.  "  Cheer  up,  old  hand,"  she  said.  "  Sometimes 
things  will  go  wrong  like  that — ever  so  long;  and  then 
turn  right  round  and  get  worse!  Some  class  to  Phemy; 
but  she  can't  show  me  up  the  way  I  could  myself — she 
don't  know !  "  She  laughed  again ;  but  the  spontaneous, 
light-hearted  bubbling  changed  on  her  lip  to  a  harsh  and 
strident  sneer. 


Is  "  Martha  laughed  "  more  satisfying  to  the  artistic  sense  than 
a  passage  of  direct  moralizing  would  be?  Rewrite  the  paragraph, 
bring  out  the  contrast  by  means  of  reflective  comment ;  then  test 
the  effect  by  reading  it  in  connection  with  the  preceding  para- 
graph. Does  the  substitute  give  the  effect  of  tyro  work?  See 
S.  S.  M.,  194-196. 

154.  This  paragraph  presents  Martha  in  a  period  of  character- 
gi'owth,  as  does  the  entire  stage.  Observe  the  mood  of  this,  as 
in  the  "harsh  and  strident  sneer"  (find  other  instances).  Char- 
acter does  not  often  pass  through  crisis  without  undergoing  some 
change  as  a  reaction.  At  the  close  of  this  episode,  Martha  has 
achieved  a  noble  act,  but  at  a  personal  cost  that  is  likely  to  react 
unfavorably  on  her  own  character;  thereafter,  she  is  likely  to 
become  inwardly  more  like  the  environment  to  which  she  has 
returned,  represented  outwardly  by  bold  speech,  cynical  behavior, 
recklessness  of  amusement,  and  the  like.  The  paragraph  shows 
her  at  a  moment  when  she  fully  recognizes  what  this  environ- 
ment is,  and  how  she  has  been  and  will  be  a  part  of  it,  and 
thus  presents  her  at  a  potentially  tragic  moment  of  character 
history  (but  cf.  introd.  n.  8).  Later — at  the  end  of  the  story — 
reversal  of  the  tragic  situation  takes  place,  so  that  she  is  not 
made  to  pay  the  harsh  price  of  her  self-sacrifice,  but  is  brought 
back  to  the  happier  and  wholesomer  environment  where  her  fine 
qualities  will  be  stimulated  rather  than  thwarted;  and  in  that 
environment,  she  will  always  be  a  "  bigger  "  woman  for  the  crisis 
and  her  decision  in  it.  Martha,  therefore,  grows  in  character; 
and  the  struggle  producing  this  growth,  with  the  uncertainty 
whether  it  will  ultimately  take  the  direction  of  good  or  of  ill, 
is  part  of  the  conflict  of  the  story.  Incidentally,  the  "  happy 
ending "  problem  is  well  illustrated.  The  authors'  report  could 
end  either  way  with  truth  to  life.  They  chose  the  non-tragic 
outcome.     As  the  probabilities  would  not  be  violated  in  either 


94  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

155.  "Oh,  what's  the  use?  Except  mother  and  the 
kidlets,  we're  a  hard  lot.  Sam — ^lie's  the  oldest — he's  all 
right.  He  got  away.  Guess  the  rest  of  us  didn't  have 
much  chance.  j\Ij  dad's  a  booze-hoist.  He  used  to  be 
good  to  us,  at  that — before  he  took  to  bending  his  elbow 
and  making  a  little  amateur  hell  between  acts.  And  Sally 
— you  know  about  her;  you  did  the  little  scissors 
stunt  with  the  Vesper  Bell.  That  was  white  of  you, 
Coburn!" 

156.  On  the  porch-rail  a  brown  hand  closed  over  a 
white  one. 

157.  "  I  don't  care  one  copper  cent  about  your  family! 
I  care  more  for  you  than " 

158.  "Forget  it!" 

159.  "  I  do — you  know  I  do.    I  want  you,  Martha." 


event,  their  decision  in  favor  of  the  happy  ending  would  be  based 
on:  (1)  The  underlying  purpose  of  the  story.  This  clearly  in- 
cluded a  presentation  of  generous,  upright  spirit  in  opposition 
to  suspicious  meanness.  This  aspect  of  the  theme  could  be  pre- 
sented either  by  showing  youth  and  frankness  rising  superior 
to  meanness,  or  thwarted  and  embittered  by  it.  Therefore  the 
decision  would  be  felt  to  depend  a  good  deal  on  (2)  the  tone  of 
the  story.  This  is  on  the  whole  happy — serious,  j'et  not  too 
serious;  touched  with  youth,  gaiety,  and  the  spirit  of  a  "rag- 
time lady."  Further,  the  decision  would  quite  likely  depend 
somewhat  on  (3)  the  authors'  view  of  life  (optimistic  rather  than 
pessimistic),  and  also  on  (4)  the  liking  of  the  authors  for  their 
centi'al  person.  That  they  liked  Martha  personally  is,  I  think, 
certain.  Almost  instinctively,  therefore,  they  would  be  likely  to 
give  her  the  happiness  that  she  deserved. — Note  the  satisfying 
effect  of  the  final  reversal  (mentioned  above)  in  Martha's  fate. 
Some  authorities  regard  a  reversal  as  absolutely  necessary  to 
dramatic  effect. 

155-168.  Seek  out  the  indications  of  tenderness  notwithstanding 
the  language  used.  Are  there  other  examples  of  the  employment 
of  suggestion  to  communicate  fact? 


A  Ragtime  Lady  95 

160.  "  You're  a  good  driver,  Curly  Puzzlehead,  and 
kind  to  dusty  little  girls.     Let  it  go  at  that !  " 

161.  '^  Will  you  marry  me,  dear?  " 

162.  She  flared  scorn  at  him. 

163.  "Can  it!  Nothing  doing!  Line  busy!  Ring 
off!  "  At  each  coarse  and  repellent  word  she  shriveled  and 
shrank  away  in  some  horrible  anamorphosis,  as  though  a 
butterfly  should  change  back  to  a  grub;  she  put  by  sun- 
light and  wings,  calling  desperately  on  her  store  of  pitiful 
knowledge.  "  Me  ?  Me  marry  a  roughneck  ?  Oh,  go  hoe 
your  cabbage !  I  want  a  live  one !  The  short  and  merry 
for  mine !  " 

164.  But  he  was  close;  he  saw  in  her  eyes  the  little 
skipping  lights  that  belied  her.  She  read  his  purpose  in 
his  face  and  wrenched  loose  her  forgetful  hand. 

165.  "  Why,  you  great  chump !  If  I  was  fool  enough 
to  want  to  marry  you — which  I'm  not — do  you  suppose 
your  folks  would  let  you  marry  Sally  Menlick's  sister  ?  " 

166.  His  arms  were  open,  pleading. 

167.  "  I  love  you !  If  there  were  fifty  Sally  Men- 
licks " 

168.  She  laughed  in  his  face  with  a  bitter  and  brazen 
tone ;  her  voice  was  hard. 

169.  "  Aw-w,  you  will  have  it!  You  big  mutt,  I'm 
Sally  Menlick!" 

169-170.  The  climactic  height  of  this  stage,  and  also  of  the 
story  as  a  whole  up  to  this  pomt.  Note  that  if  the  story  were  not 
to  have  a  happy  ending,  this  point  would  probably  be  the  grand 
tragic  climacteric.  The  situation  here  established  may  be  described 
as  a  contrast,  for  the  final  or  climactic  situation.  Note  that  the 
latter  includes  a  reversal  of  the  story  outcome  up  to  this  point. 
Out  of  this  reversal  much  of  its  dramatic  thrill  comes.  Pars. 
169-170  are,  therefore,  a  strong  item  of  resistant  delay  ( S.  S.  M., 
154:  7  and  footnote). 


96  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

170.  Then  Coburn  went  away. 

171.  She  stood  on  the  porch  and  watched  liim  go.  Her 
throat  was  aching  and  dry  with  the  ashen  taste  of  triumph. 
.  .  .  Tomorrow — and  tomorrow — and  tomorrow !  .  .  . 
Into  her  tired  brain  came  a  thought  of  refuge — the  mid- 
night train  for  Dennison.  She  grasped  at  it — the  one  sure 
thought  in  a  whirling  world!  .  .  .  Aunt  Harry  ?  Aunt 
Harry  Avould  understand !  Desperate,  afraid,  she  fled  be- 
tween the  glimmering  tall  syringas  and  set  her  feet  toward 
Windsor  and  the  midnight  train. 

172.  Alone  along  the  winding  way,  swift  and  strong, 
breasting  the  moonlight,  bareheaded,  all  in  white,  she 
went  as  she  came ;  and,  so  remembering,  she  sang — lest 
Heaven  should  guess  or  warm  earth  sense  her  pain.  High 
and  clear  her  young  voice  rang  bravely  into  the  perfumed 
night;  to  sink  at  the  last — pitiful,  sagging  and  slow: 

Now  the  moon  shines  tonight  on  pretty  Red  Wing — 
The  breeze  is  sighing — the  nighthirds  crying ; 
For  afar,  'neath  his  star,  her  brave  is  sleeping — 
While  Red  Wing's  weeping  her  heart  away! 

IV. 

173.  An  August  sun  beat  upon  the  stone  soldier.  At 
his  feet  the  public  fountain  brimmed  in  a  great  iron  basin ; 
and  here  Coburn  Hall  let  his  horses  drink.     Xo  one  would 


173-196.  These  paragraphs  constitute  movement  4.  They  in- 
clude the  decisive  moment  and  the  supreme  climax.  There  is  but 
one  sentence  of  falling  action — or  rather,  of  ending — the  last. 
The  decisive  moment,  with  outcome  implied,  comes  in  pars.  179- 
18-1  (189).  Note  the  compression  and  rapid  narration  of  this 
movement. 


I 


A  Ragtime  Lady  97 

call  Coburn  apple-cheeked  now ;  the  stone  soldier  himself 
was  scarce  more  gaunt  and  hard. 

174.  While  Coburn  put  out  his  team  at  the  feed-stable, 
Aunt  Harry  waited  in  the  park,  grateful  for  the  cool 
shade.  Farther  along  the  walk  a  young  man  and  a  young 
woman  sat  on  another  iron  bench,  much  engrossed.  The 
girl  was  handsome  in  a  bold  and  sullen  way;  her  voice 
was  pitched  too  high. 

175.  To  Aunt  Harry,  waiting,  came  trippingly  Mrs. 
Euphemia  Mix,  with  manner  ominously  pleasant.  She 
sank  down  upon  the  seat. 

176.  "  Warm,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  smiled. 

177.  Aunt  Harry  admitted  as  much,  with  misgivings, 
and  prepared  to  receive  cavalry.  The  stone  soldier,  for 
his  part,  saw  gladly  that  Coburn  Hall  was  near  at  hand, 
coming  across  the  street ;  and  was  also  aware,  out  of  the 
tail  of  his  eye,  that  belated  Boney  Hardman,  with  an 
empty  cab,  was  clattering  trainward  over  the  brick  pave- 
ment ;  and  he  heard  the  eastbound  local  at  the  whistling- 
post. 

178.  Mrs.  Euphemia  Mix  unmasked  another  smile,  and 
even  Aunt  Harry,  for  all  her  hardihood,  flinched  a  little ; 
she  longed  for  her  knitting  needles. 

179.  "  You  remember  that  Menlick  girl  who  came  so 
near  making  trouble  between  you  and  me,  dear  ?  Well,  I 
never  was  one  to  hold  a  grudge,  but  I've  got  something  to 
tell  you.  I've  just  been  calling  on  Phoebe  Halliday;  and 
what  do  you  think  ?  "  She  beamed  delightful  intelligence. 
"  Her  sister's  had  the  face  to  come  back  to  town ;  and 
that's  her  yonder — that  chattering,  bedizened  creature, 
over  there  on  that  bench." 

180.  "  Pheb's  ?  "  suggested  Aunt  Harry. 


"98  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzkd 

181.  Mrs.  Euplieniia  Mix  was  not  to  be  baffled  today, 
however.  She  was  in  her  best  form.  She  laughed  vin- 
dictively. 

182.  "Oh,  no!  Your  precious  Martha's  sister — the 
girl  that  stole  the  watch — Sally  Menlick." 

183.  "  You  are  sure  of  what  you  are  saying,  Euphemia 
MLx?" 

184.  "  Pheb'  Halliday  pointed  her  out  to  me." 

185.  "  Thank  you,"  said  Aunt  Harry.  "  It  was  real 
good-hearted  of  you  to  tell  me.     Coburn,  come  here !  " 

186.  Coburn  had  been  hanging  back  in  dread  of  Mrs. 
Mix ;  but  he  came  at  the  call. 

187.  "  Xephew,"  said  Aunt  Harry,  with  fine  direct- 
ness, "  look  at  the  overdressed  young  woman  on  the  next 
seat.     Take  a  good  look !    Did  you  ever  see  her  before  ?  " 

188.  "  Why,  no.    What  about  her  ?  " 

189.  "  Coburn  Hall — that  girl  is  the  real  Sally  Men- 
lick!" 

190.  "  Aunt  Harry !  "  He  whirled,  ran  and  flung  up 
his  hand  at  Mr.  Boney  Hardman.  The  cab  barely 
checked ;  Coburn  swung  up  to  the  driver's  seat. 

191.  "  Catch  that  train  !" 

192.  The  cab  made  the  corner  on  two  wheels.  The 
local  was  just  pulling  in. 

193.  "  Afraid  I  can't  do  it,  sir,"  said  Boney  as  they 
took  the  bridge  at  plunging  gallop.  "  They'll  arrest  me, 
too." 

194.  "  That  will  be  afterward,"  said  Coburn.  "  Catch 
that  train! " 

195.  The  stone  soldier's  eyes  were  dreaming. 


THE  UNKNOWN" 

The  Stoey  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  The  Unknown  "  is  an  excellent  example  of  the 
problem  short  story  (S.  S.  M.,  27 :  4-15).  That  it  distinctly 
is  a  short  story  (conte)  is  proved  by  its  singleness  of  effect 
(S.  S.  M.,  19 :  1-3 ;  36 :  2)  ;  by  its  having  a  conclusive  out- 
come (S.  S.  M.,  10 :  1-6  ;  192  :  6  ;  and  running  note  on  par. 
139) ;  and  by  its  turning  upon  a  conflict  (S.  S.  M., 
30:10) — that  betvt^een  parental  impulse  and  cold  reason. 

2.  It  is  one  of  those  stories  which  can  be  best  devel- 
oped by  employment  of  the  strictly  chronological  order 
(S.  S.  M.,  122 ;  1-5  ;  153  :  5-7)  ;  for  its  aim  is  gradually  to 
unfold  before  us  this  question:  if  children  of  ours  (see 
next  note)  had  remained  in  savagery  for  many  years, 
would  it  now  be  for  either  our  good  or  theirs  to  bring  them 
back  into  civilization ;  and  should  we  be  happier  to  know 
that,  under  conditions  that  must  have  returned  them  to  an 
animal-like  existence,  they  still  survive,  or  to  believe  that 
they  died  in  time  to  escape  this  fate  ?  To  bring  this  ques- 
tion home  to  us,  the  author  carries  us  through  a  series  of 
events  in  which,  aspect  by  aspect,  the  problem  is  laid  be- 
fore us  as  it  developed  for  decision  by  persons  with  chil- 
dren lost  in  such  circumstances.  By  this  method  we  are 
made  to  meet  the  problem  stage  by  stage  as,  with  growing 
intensity,  it  presses  upon  the  parents  (in  this  case  the 
father)  for  decision.  Chronological  sequence  clearly  is 
best  adapted  to  effect  this  presentation, 

99 


100  Today's  Shout  Stouiks  Analyzed 

3.  Although  directed  to  all  mature  readers,  the  story  is 
particularly  addressed  to  parents,  or  at  least  to  those  in 
whom  affectionate  interest  in  children  is  strongly  estab- 
lished. No  one  who  has  not  experienced  devoted  love  and 
realized  something  like  parental  responsibility  for  some 
child,  is  likely  to  appreciate  the  story  except  in  an  intel- 
lectual, not  an  emotional,  way.  The  author's  method  of 
creating  emotional  appeal  (S.  S.  M.,  63:14,  with  15-17 
and  esp.  IS)  is  partly  responsible  for  his  employment 
of  the  chronological  order.  He  realizes  that  any  reader 
whose  experience  qualifies  him  to  appreciate  such  a  story 
at  all,  will  immediately  put  himself  in  the  place  of  the 
friends  and  parents  of  the  lost  children,  and  while  follow- 
ing through  with  them  the  successive  stages  of  their  prob- 
lem, undergo  emotionally  the  same  feelings  as  they  under- 
went. The  absence  of  any  artificial  stimulation  of  emo- 
tion is  to  be  noted ;  such  stimulation  would  be  out  of  place 
in  this  story,  and  attempts  to  introduce  it  might  degrade 
the  narrative.     See  S.  S.  M.,  67 :  18. 

4.  A  review  of  the  narrative  will  disclose  that  it  is 
remarkably  rhythmic  in  the  alternating  rise  and  fall  of 
expectation  and  uncertainty,  hope  and  disappointment. 
To  this  alternation  is  traceable  (from  the  technical  point 
of  view)  much  of  the  suspense  felt  by  the  reader  (S.  S.  M., 
92:1;  99-103). — That  the  suspense  in  different  stories 
may  be  of  a  very  different  quality  can  be  fixed  in  mind 
by  study  of  this  in  comparison  with  other  stories.  This 
difference  of  course  is  the  result  of  a  difference  in  mate- 
rials and  (sometimes)  in  manner  of  presentation,  Cf. 
"  The  Unknown "  with  "  In  the  Matter  of  Distance," 
"  The  Love  of  Men,"  "  A  Eag-time  Lady,"  "  Tropics," 
"  That  Hahnheimer  Story,"  and  other  stories,  especially 


The  Unknown  101 

those  of  plot  or  character,  as  met  with  in  general  reading. 

5.  The  story  offers  an  example  of  masterly  integration 
of  impression-producing  elements.  The  note  on  pars. 
139-147  attempts  some  discussion  of  this ;  but  the  effective- 
ness of  the  management  is  here  one  of  those  things  that 
have  to  be  sensed ;  it  is  not  to  be  appreciated  merely 
through  exposition. 

6.  The  story  presents  "  the  universal  "  (S.  S.  M.,  256) 
in  two  ways — by  familiarizing  us  with  instincts  and  emo- 
tions common  to  all  men  and  classes,  and  by  suggesting 
indirectly  the  supreme  necessity  of  social  organization  to 
preserve  and  transmit  the  experience  of  the  race ;  for  it 
makes  us  realize  that  in  fifteen  years  persons  accustomed 
to  civilization  throughout  their  childhood  will  revert  to 
a  wholly  animal  existence  if  removed  from  the  influences 
of  society.  This  power  to  "  present  the  universal  "  is  here 
mentioned  because  the  story  is  a  good  reminder  of  what 
we  sometimes  forget — that  the  influence  of  art  can  be  and 
is  instructional — upon  all  who  follow  their  enjoyment 
with  reflection.     See  S.  S.  S.,  34:  19-20;  194: 10. 


THE  UNKNOWN 

By  Albert  Payson  Terhune 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  lOditors  and  the  Author  from  "  The 

Red  Book  "  for  February,  1917. 

(Copyrighted,  1917) 

1.  When  the  tiny  tourist  steamship  Aloha  puffed 
through  the  Golden  Gate  in  late  November  of  1900  for 
a  wintertime  loiter  in  the  South  Seas,  she  carried  107 
first-class  passengers  who  had  more  time  than  business,  or 
else  more  money  than  health. 

2.  When  the  Aloha  was  creeping  with  blind-man  cau- 
tion, one  fog-cursed  night  late  in  December,  through  a 
reef-starred  stretch  of  remote  ocean  far  southward  of  the 
travel-lanes,  her  captain  chose  that  festal  occasion — it  was 
Christmas  Eve — to  accept  a  single  small  glass  of  punch 
brewed  by  a  passenger  who  was  one  of  the  line's  foremost 
officials. 


1.  See  S.  S.  M.,  129:12-21,  on  interest-in-opening.  The  lei- 
surely development  of  the  opening  (this  and  the  four  following 
paragraphs)  must  be  judged  by  the  requirements  of  the  story  in 
its  later  parts.  It  will  be  found  (e.g.)  that  the  motivation  and 
plausibility  of  various  later  facts  and  situations  really  depend 
on  apparently  immaterial  details  mentioned  in  pars.  1-15.  Such 
are  the  long  uncertainty  about  the  place  where  the  vessel  was 
wrecked;  the  separation  of  friends  and  families  in  assigning  the 
passengers  to  the  boats;  and  the  upsetting  of  a  boat,  with  the 
consequent  possibility  that  the  children  were  drowned  at  that  time. 
The  verisimilitude  of  the  wreck  incident  itself  is  much  increased 
by  the  plain,  matter-of-fact  introduction  of  this  body  of  convinc- 
ing details. 

103 


The  Unknown  103 

3.  This  mild  potation  would  not  have  turned  the  head 
of  a  ten-year-old  child.  Its  very  mildness  was  the  cap- 
tain's excuse  for  drinking  it — that  and  the  fact  that  the 
magnate  who  brewed  it  and  who  pressed  the  glass  upon 
him  was  the  arbiter  of  his  financial  destinies. 

4.  There  was  perhaps  a  teaspoonful  of  whisky  among 
the  other  ingredients  in  that  one  glass  of  punch. 

5.  It  was  Captain  Stilsen's  first  taste  of  liquor  since 
a  drastic  three-month  drink-cure  course  at  a  sanitarium 
years  earlier  had  given  him  streng-th  to  change  from  a 
periodic  drunkard  to  a  smartly  reliable  navigator. 

6.  Stilsen  went  back  at  once  to  the  bridge.  There  all 
the  torments  of  hades  racked  his  very  soul.  Presently, 
turning  over  the  command  to  his  first  officer  on  plea  of 
sudden  illness,  he  went  to  his  cabin. 

7.  Thither  he  summoned  a  wondering  steward,  who 
presently  brought  him  two  quart  bottles  of  Scotch  whisky, 
a  siphon  and  a  bowl  of  cracked  ice. 

8.  An  hour  later  it  occurred  to  Captain  Stilsen  that 
the  night  was  very  foggy,  that  reefs  w^re  unpleasantly 
numerous  in  that  stretch  of  sea  and  that  a  captain's  place, 
in  such  a  crisis,  was  on  his  bridge.  This  idea  took  such 
complete  possession  of  him  that  he  strode  back  to  his  post 
of  duty  and  resumed  command. 

9.  Within  half  an  hour  the  Aloha's  starboard  quarter 
was  the  nesting  place  of  a  shark-tooth  reef. 

10.  Stilsen  did  the  two  things  that  remained  for  a  man 
in  his  circumstances  to  do.  First  he  got  all  his  passengers 
and  crew  safely  into  the  boats  before  the  slow-settling 
Aloha's  weight  tore  her,  inch  by  inch,  from  the  upholding 
tooth  of  rock.  Then  he  went  calmly  back  to  his  own 
sharply  listing  cabin,  locked  its  door  behind  him  and  un- 


104  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

corked  the  seeoiul  (inart  of  wliisky.  lie  was  having  a  very 
pleasant  time  indeed  when  the  increasing  water-pressure 
burst  inward  his  locked  door  and  pushed  a  shower  of  port- 
hole-giass  into  the  cabin. 

11.  Of  the  Aloha's  boats  all  but  one  was  sooner  or 
later  picked  up.  All  her  passengers  but  three  were  res- 
cued, in  better  or  worse  condition. 

12.  The  exception,  in  the  roster  of  boats,  was  a  little 
naphtha  launch,  a  mere  toy.  The  three  human  absentees 
were : 

HEXRICUS  VAN  DUYNE  (A.B.,  A.M.,  Ph.D., 

F.R.S.),  aged  forty-five,  Professor  of  Applied  Science 
at  Coromandal  University. 

MARK  BURLEIGH,  aged  fifteen,  a  "  prep  "-school 
boy,  who  had  been  making  the  voyage  as  the  guest  of  his 
maiden  aunt.  Miss  Susan  Burleigh,  of  New  York. 

MARGUERITE  CRAIG,  aged  fourteen,  whose  par- 
ents. Dr.  and  Mrs.  Bruce  Craig  (also  of  New  York), 
were  saved  by  a  copra-schooner  and  reached  home  at 
the  end  of  twelve  incommodious  weeks. 

13.  A  naphtha  launch,  a  man  of  forty-five,  a  boy  of 
fifteen,  a  girl  of  fourteen — these  were  the  Aloha's  missing. 
The  captain  did  not  count.  There  was  no  mystery  as  to 
his  fate. 


12.  Observe  the  tone  of  actuality  given  by  means  of  the  quasi- 
newspaper  form;  also  the  condensed  cataloguing  of  essential  infor- 
mation-details made  possible  by  this  form.  (The  narration 
throughout  closely  adheres  to  journalistic  standards  in  its  com- 
pactness and  directness,  and  its  freedom  from  superfluous  ampli- 
fication and  adventitious  ornament.) 


The  Unknown  105 

14.  The  launch  (which  had  been  stowed  on  deck,  for 
the  benefit  of  a  "  way  "  passenger  who  owned  it  and  who 
was  to  have  debarked  three  days  later)  had  contained  fuel 
and  by  Stilsen's  orders  had  been  provisioned  and  lowered 
with  the  other  boats.  Who  had  manned  or  occupied  it, 
nobody  seemed  to  recall. 

15.  The  night  had  been  black  and  foggy.  The  drink- 
dulled  Stilsen  had  automatically — and  autocratically — as- 
signed the  various  passenger  groups  to  the  different  boats. 
And  without  panic,  but  with  dazed,  sheeplike  obedience, 
they  had  followed  his  commands.  One  boat  had  upset, 
spilling  its  load  into  the  calm  water,  but  everyone — sup- 
posedly— had  been  hauled  aboard  again  when  it  was 
righted. 

16.  For  weeks  the  tale  of  new-landed  survivors  was 
continued.  For  months  Miss  Susan  Burleigh  and  the 
Craigs  and  Professor  Van  Duyne's  invalid  wife  clung 
piteously  to  hope.  Then,  when  a  year  had  passed,  they 
schooled  themselves  to  face  their  losses. 

17.  Two  insurance  companies  duly  paid  Van  Duyne's 
widow  seven  thousand,  five  hundred  dollars  apiece.  A  dual 
memorial  service  was  arranged  by  Miss  Burleigh  and  the 
Craigs,  as  belated  obsequies  for  Mark  and  for  Marguerite. 
And  life  went  on — as  life  has  a  way  of  doing. 

18.  But  eight  months  after  the  year's  lapse  a  whaler, 
touching  at  Sable  Island,  left  there  a  very  dirty  and  very 

18.  Upward  fluctuation  of  hope — quickly  disappointed,  but 
maintaining  expectancy  even  while  seeming  conchisively  to  show 
that  the  children  were  drowned;  for  if  one  of  the  three  lost  pas- 
sengers survived,  some  chance  might  have  likewise  saved  the  other 
two.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  story  produces  suspense  by  thus 
utilizing  the  trait  of  human  nature  that  makes  the  heart  hope  on 
when  the  brain  insists  that  there  is  no  hope.    Look  for  other  flue- 


100  Topay's  Short  Stories  ANAiAZF.n 

unkcnipt  iiiau  oi  middle  ago  who  promptly  introduced  him- 
self to  the  local  authorities  as  Ilenricus  Van  Duyne, 
A.]?.,  A.M.,  rh.D.,  F.R.S.,  etc.,  recent  Professor  of  Ap- 
plied Science  at  Coromandal  University — who  demanded 
instant  passage  to  New  York. 

19.  The  Craigs  and  Miss  Burleigh  read  the  cabled  ac- 
count of  Van  Duyne's  reappearance.  And  all  three  of 
them  traveled  as  far  north  as  Halifax  to  meet  him  on  his 
southward  journey.  But  they  had  their  trip  and  their 
reawakened  hope-pangs  all  for  nothing.  Professor  Van 
Duyne  could  give  them  no  tidings  whatever  of  the  missing 
boy  and  girl. 

20.  The  story  Van  Duyne  told  was  simple  to  a  degree, 
lie  and  two  sailors,  he  said,  had  been  assigned  to  the 
naphtha  launch  on  Stilsen's  learning  that  he  understood  the 
w^orking  of  motor-craft. 

21.  The  two  sailors — ignorant  Lascars — had  trusted 
neither  the  efficiency  of  such  a  newfangled  boat  nor  the 
guidance  of  a  landsman.  Wherefore  they  had  at  once  slid 
over  the  side  and  had  swum  across,  under  cover  of  the  fog, 
to  an  undermanned  lifeboat  fifty  feet  away  and  had 
climbed  aboard. 

22.  Left  alone,  Van  Duyne  had  tried  to  follow  the  gen- 
eral course  of  the  boats  ahead  of  him,  but  had  lost  his 
bearings  in  the  fog.  He  had  chugged  along  by  guesswork, 
until  daylight  lifted  the  mist.  Then  all  around  him  the 
ocean  had  showed  no  sign  of  any  other  craft.  Taking 
bearings  by  the  new-risen  sun,  the  Professor  had  continued 
along  the  course  the  Aloha  had  been  steering.    His  supply 


tuations.  The  summarizing  of  Van  Duyne's  story  has  the  further 
effect  (cf.  note  on  par.  1)  of  increasing  the  impression  of  truth- 
to-actuality,  the  verisiraiUtude,  of  the  story. 


The  Unknown  lOY 

of  fuel  gave  out  before  he  could  sight  land.  Then  a  gale 
had  caught  his  boat  astern  and  had  driven  it  on — while 
he  alternately  prayed  and  bailed — for  another  forty-eight 
hours. 

23.  At  last,  with  the  falling  of  the  wind,  the  exhausted 
man  had  sighted  a  hilly  island  blazing  green  in  the  blue 
glare  of  the  sea  and  girt  with  snow-bright  sand.  Thither, 
by  rigging  his  shirt  on  the  launch's  boat-hook,  he  had 
beaten  his  way  more  dead  than  alive  and  had  beached  his 
boat. 

24.  On  that  South  Sea  island,  for  six  long  months,  he 
had  lived.  Except  for  lonely  hopelessness,  he  had  not 
fared  ill.  From  fish  to  breadfruit,  from  trappable  game 
to  edible  roots,  there  was  natural  food  enough  on  those 
twenty  square  miles  of  fertile  land  to  sustain  fifty 
men. 

25.  There  were  indications  aplenty  of  former  human 
occupancy.  A  Polynesian  tribe  had  doubtless  lived  there, 
but  many,  many  years  ago.  Some  pestilence  had  probably 
wiped  out  or  at  least  decimated  the  islanders,  and  the  place 
had  since  been  shunned  in  terror  by  all  other  natives. 

26.  Six  months  later  the  Professor's  signal  was  seen  by 
a  whaler  cruising  to  the  island  in  quest  of  water.  The 
whaler's  captain  had  been  in  haste  to  get  well  out  beyond 
the  reef-fringed  coast  before  the  coming  of  a  threatened 
typhoon,  but  had  stopped  long  enough  to  fill  a  few  casks 
and  to  take  the  marooned  professor  aboard.  The  captain, 
however,  had  refused  to  leave  his  course  to  carry  Van 
Duyne  to  any  port  whence  he  could  reach  home.  Thus  the 
Professor  had  perforce  remained  on  board,  reluctantly 
working  his  passage,  until  toward  the  end  of  the  cruise, 
when  he  was  dropped  at  Sable  Island. 


lOS  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

27.  The  Professor's  story  \vas  interesting  enough,  as 
stories  go.  But  it  ceased  to  interest  the  Craigs  and  Miss 
Burleigh  as  soon  as  they  found  he  knew  nothing  about  the 
fate  of  Mark  and  Marguerite.     And  again  hope  died. 

28.  The  mourners  remembered  the  overturning  of  one 
of  the  lifeboats,  the  spilling  of  its  human  freight  into  the 
sea,  the  righting  of  the  boat  and  the  hauling  of  dripping 
s^vimmers  over  its  sides.  There  had  been  no  "  counting 
of  heads,"  after  the  capsized  passengers  were  fished  aboard 
again.  Ami,  since  the  launch  was  now  accounted  for, 
there  was  no  longer  any  mystery  as  to  the  fate  of  the  boy 
and  girl. 

29.  The  Aloha  sank  on  Christmas  Eve,  1900.  On  New 
Year's  Eve,  1915,  Mr.  Bruce  Craig  received  by  mail  a 
long  envelope  containing  a  brief  note  and  a  pair  of  type- 
written sheets.    The  note  ran : 

Bruce  Craig,  Esq.  : 
Dear  Sir: 

The  enclosed  is  a  copy  I  made  today  of  one  of  the 
papers  I  found  in  the  safe-deposit  box  of  the  late  Hen- 
ricus  Van  Duyne  of  this  city.  As  Professor  Van 
Duyne's  next  of  kin,  I  was  searching  his  effects  for  a 
will  when  I  came  upon  this  statement.     I  recall  the 


29.  Is  anything  more  than  definiteness  of  time  attained  by  men- 
tion of  Chi'istmas  and  New  Year's?  Would  "Sept.  1"  and 
"Sept.  8"  be  as  impressive?  If  not,  why  not?  (Cf.  S.  S.  M., 
56:5-7;  25:4  (d) ;  63:14;  65:16-17.) 

29-30.  Preparation  for  another  upward  fluctuation  of  expect- 
ancy and  hope.  The  fact  that  this  fluctuation  depends  on  facts 
that  are  of  leading  importance  in  the  plot  leads  the  author  instinc- 
tively to  give  it  prominence  by  preparing  the  way  for  it  in 
advance — or,  as  we  may  say,  introducing  it  formally,  thus  empha- 
sizing it  by  increased  attention.    Find  the  remaining  instances. 


The  Unknown  109 

whole  case,  very  vividly.     And  it  occurred  to  me  that 
you  have  the  right  to  see  this  statement  at  once.     So  I 
have  herewith  copied  it.    It  needs  no  comment  from  me. 
Very  truly, 

RuFus  K.  Van  Duyne. 

30.  Puzzled,  Bruce  Craig  unfolded  the  sheets  of  typed 
paper  and  read : 

31.  I,  Henkicus  Van  Duyne,  being  as  nearly  in  my 
right  mind  as  ever  again  I  can  hope  to  be,  have  decided 
to  add  the  following  facts  and  corrections  to  the  state- 
ment I  made  to  the  press,  upon  my  arrival  at  Sable  Island 
in  August  of  this  year  (1902). 

32.  For  obvious  reasons  I  cannot  make  known  these 
facts,  while  I  am  still  living.  But  if  I  die  within  the 
next  twenty  years,  it  may  not  be  too  late  to  atone  in  part 
for  what  I  have  done — and  for  what  God  will  perhaps 
forgive  me,  when  He  remembers  that  He  gave  me  the  soul 
of  a  coward. 


31-48.  Is  it  likely  that  such  a  document  would  be  left  by  any 
man  in  such  circumstances?  In  other  words,  is  the  existence  of 
this  confession  sufficiently  motivated  in  recognized  traits  of  char- 
acter and  human  nature?  Would  a  man  such  as  Van  Duyne  be 
troubled  in  conscience  by  what  he  had  done?  If  he  were  weak 
enough  to  abandon  the  children,  would  he  be  weak  enough  to  con- 
tinue his  concealment  of  their  existence  after  his  own  escape,  and 
also  weak  enough  on  the  other  side  to  try  to  sop  his  conscience  by 
such  a  secret  confession?  Once  having  written  it,  would  he, 
either  through  inertia  or  indecision,  let  it  continue  among  his 
papers,  to  blast  his  reputation  after  his  death  if  it  came  to  the 
knowledge  of  his  family  or  the  public?  The  author  (rightly,  it 
seems  to  me)  makes  no  attempt  to  explain  Van  Duyne's  course, 
but  depends  upon  the  reader's  own  knowledge  of  character  and 
human  nature  to  appreciate  the  facts  on  which  this  confession  is 
motivated. 


110  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

33.  !My  statement  to  tlie  press  was  in  the  main  correct 
— so  far  as  it  went.  The  only  actual  falsehood  I  told  was 
concerning  the  two  sailors  assigned  to  the  launch  with 
me. 

34.  The  two  persons  entrusted  by  Captain  Stilsen  to 
my  care,  in  the  launch,  were  not  sailors.  They  were  a 
boy  and  a  girl — Mark  Burleigh  and  Marguerite  Craig. 

35.  Nor  did  they  jump  overboard,  as  I  said  the  sailors 
did.  They  remained  with  me  through  those  three  days 
of  torture  and  fear,  and  they  landed  with  me  upon  the 
island  that  for  six  months  was  my  prison.  There,  through 
my  small  scientific  knowledge,  I  taught  them  what  plants 
to  use  or  to  avoid,  for  food.  I  also  taught  them  how  to 
weave  fishlines  from  fiber  and  to  shape  fishhooks  from 
tuna-bone  and  how  to  set  gamesnares. 

3G.  One  day  they  two  went  to  the  western  end  of  the 
island  for  shellfish.  They  started  at  dawn  and  were  to 
return  by  moonlight,  as  it  was  a  nine-mile  journey  each 
way.  An  hour  after  they  set  forth  I  sighted  the  whaler 
at  anchor  off  shore;  its  longboat  was  already  rowing 
toward  me,  laden  with  water-casks. 

37.  The  captain — so  the  mate  in  charge  of  the  boat 
told  me — had  ordered  the  casks  filled  as  hastily  as  pos- 
sible from  the  nearest  spring,  as  the  glass  gave  warning 
of  a  gale  and  he  wished  to  get  out  into  deep  water.  There 
is  no  safe  anchorage  at  the  island.  He  bade  me  be  ready 
to  accompany  the  boat  as  soon  as  the  casks  should  be  filled 
— or  else  to  stay  where  I  was. 

38.  In  vain  I  begged  him  to  wait  until  night,  so  that 
my  two  companions  might  return.  He  refused.  When 
the  casks  were  filled,  I  put  off  to  the  whaler  with  him,  and 
there  I  repeated  to  the  captain  my  plea  for  delay. 


The  Unknown  111 

39.  He  brutally  refused,  telling  me  I  might  swim 
ashore  again  if  I  chose,  and  that  he  would  not  risk  a  hur- 
ricane among  those  reefs,  to  rescue  a  whole  orphan-asylum. 

40.  What  was  there  for  me  to  do  ?  If  I  went  back  to 
that  accursed  island,  a  lifetime  might  elapse  before  the 
next  ship  would  touch  there — for  it  is  far  off  the  lines  of 
ocean  travel,  and  the  whaler  merely  neared  it  because 
blown  far  out  of  her  course  by  a  storm. 

41.  How  could  I  have  beneiited  Craig  and  the  girl  by 
returning?  My  first  duty  was  my  wife — and  to  the 
world  of  science.  Also — I  realize  it  now — I  was  a 
coward. 

42.  In  brief,  I  made  up  my  mind.  I  told  the  captain 
and  mate  that  I  had  no  companions  on  shore  and  that  I 
had  mentioned  them  only  in  hope  of  gaining  time  to  go 
back  to  my  hut,  across  the  island,  for  some  scientific 
specimens  I  wished  to  save. 

43.  The  captain  kicked  me  for  lying  to  him ;  and  he 
set  me  to  work  scraping  blubber — a  horrible  occupation. 

44.  I  had  time,  in  the  months  that  ensued,  to  realize 
the  figure  I  should  cut  in  the  eyes  of  my  friends  and  of 
the  world  at  large  should  I  confess  I  had  gained  my  own 
freedom  and  had  left  my  two  young  comrades  to  end  their 
days  there  on  the  island. 

45.  I  dared  not  face  the  contempt  of  the  public.  I 
should  never  have  been  able  to  live  down  the  cowardice. 
It  would  have  broken  my  wife's  heart  with  shame.  It 
would  have  meant  my  expulsion  from  the  University — 
the  belittling  of  my  life  work.  So  I  framed  the  story  I 
told  on  my  arrival. 

46.  May  God  forgive  me !  May  those  who  loved  Mar- 
guerite Craig  and  Mark  Burleigh  forgive  me !     Perhaps, 


112  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Avhcn  1  am  dead,  it  will  not  yet  be  too  late  to  rescue  the 
two  children  I  deserted. 

47.  And  yet — if  much  time  shall  have  elapsed — let 
those  who  love  the  tw^o  think  twice  before  seeking  to  rescue 
them.  Many  years  ago  I  read  a  strange  book — The  Blue 
Lagoon,  I  think,  was  the  name.  It  told  of  a  boy  and  a 
girl  thus  cast  away  on  such  an  island ;  the  thing  has  hap- 
pened before  now,  in  fact  as  well  as  in  fiction.  And  I 
advise  the  castaways'  parents  or  guardians  to  read  that 
book. 

48.  But  this  latter  is  no  affair  of  mine.  Again  I  im- 
plore forgiveness — my  wife's  above  all. 

Heneicus  Van  Duyne. 

49.  Craig  read  the  confession  through  a  second  and  a 
third  time.     Then  he  read  it  to  his  wife.     Then  they  both 


49.  Beginning  here  and  continuing  as  far  as  par.  85,  we  have 
the  first  portion  of  the  narrative  especially  devoted  to  indication  of 
the  conflict  out  of  which  the  problem  grows. — It  may  interest 
some  to  note  that  the  author  has  made  the  women  the  represen- 
tatives of  its  emotional  side — the  instinctive  impulses  of  affection 
— and  the  man  the  representative  of  its  intellectual  side  (though 
he  shares  with  the  women-folk  the  emotional  impulse).  In  the 
final  stages  of  this  conflict,  when  Craig  has  become  the  main 
representative  of  it  (89  to  end),  Captain  Ranee  is  also  found 
to  represent  this  side. 

If  any  argument  or  justification  for  assigning  this  side  to  the 
two  men  is  needed,  it  is  found  in  the  obvious  fact  that  a  life- 
time of  deciding  practical  problems  has  trained  them  in  the 
habit  of  considering  questions  in  all  their  aspects  and  basing  deci- 
sions on  clearly  forecasted  results.  The  two  women  have  lacked 
the  kind  of  experience  that  gives  the  knowledge  of  life  and 
affairs  necessary  to  such  apparently  cold  weighing  of  facts  and 
probabilities. 

We  may  regard  this  assignment  of  parts  as  giving  a  side-light 
gn  economy  of  management;  for  though,  with  the  like  precedent 


The  Unknown  113 

went  to  the  gloomy  old  Stuyvesant  Square  house  of  Miss 
Susan  Burleigh.  And  there  Craig  read  the  confession 
aloud. 

50.  He  had  to  read  the  last  half  of  it  to  Miss  Burleigh 
a  second  time,  for  in  the  middle  of  his  first  reading  she 
fainted. 

51.  Then  followed  much  more  talk,  interrupted  now 
and  then  by  a  flood  of  hysterical  tears  from  both  women. 

52.  "  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Craig  at 
last,  his  brain  recovering  some  of  its  wonted  working- 
power. 


experience,  women  might  be  as  likely  as  men  to  apply  coldly 
practical  logic  in  deciding  such  a  problem,  the  fact  remains  that 
most  women  have  not  had  such  experience  and  that  the  author 
would  therefore  have  to  expend  additional  effort  (to  no  gain  in 
truth  or  conclusiveness  of  impression),  in  order  to  give  plausi- 
bility to  the  situation. 

Reduced  to  a  technical  direction,  this  comment  amounts  to  say- 
ing, "  Don't  waste  time  by  motivating  anything  that  is  not  re- 
quired by  the  outcome  and  impression,  but  leave  it  out,  espe- 
cially when  you  can  build  directly  on  some  belief  or  convention 
so  generally  received  that  it  may  be  treated  as  fundamental." 
(The  belief  or  convention  may  be  erroneous,  but  its  utility  as  a 
motivating  means  is  not  thereby  necessarily  nullified.) 

The  amount  of  space  occupied  (here  and  later  in  the  story) 
in  getting  the  problem  before  us,  is  justified  by  the  demands 
of  clearness  and  the  fact  that  human  impulse  is  emphatically  on 
the  side  of  "  rescue " ;  at  first  thought,  few  persons,  man  or 
woman,  but  would  be  for  an  immediate  attempt  to  bring  back 
the  castaways.  The  forces  of  the  opposed  argument  impress  only 
by  slow  degrees — and  may  not  fully  impress  us  at  all  unless  we 
clearly  appreciate  the  meaning  of  some  of  the  things  merely 
suggested  by  the  narrative.  (As  hinted  in  introd.  n.  3,  the  author 
depends  largely  for  understanding  upon  the  extent  of  the  read- 
er's experience  and  of  his  ability  to  realize  through  his  own 
knowledge  and  sympathies  the  true  inwardness  and  intensity  of 
the  situation.) 


11 A  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

53.  "Done?"  echoed  his  wife,  amazed.  "Done? 
What,  do  you  mean,  Bruce  ?  Surely  there's  only  one  thing 
to " 

5-1.  "  Done?  "  babbled  Susan  Burleigh,  tearfully  indig- 
nant at  the  question.  "  Why,  man  alive,  there's  every- 
thing to  be  done!  What's  the  matter  with  you?  Don't 
you  understand  ?  The  two  babies  that  we've  mourned  as 
dead  for  fifteen  years  are  alive!  Alive!  There  on  that 
awful  island,  in  the  South  Seas !  Alive — and  waiting  for 
us  to  bring  them  home.  How  soon  can  we  start  ?  It's 
too  late,  tonight,  I  suppose.    But " 

55.  "  Yes,"  grimly  agreed  Craig,  "  it  is  too  late,  tonight. 
I'm  afraid  the  last  car  for  the  South  Seas  has  gone." 

56.  "  Bruce!  "  gasped  his  wife.  "  How  can  you  joke, 
at  such — at  such  a  sacred  time  ?  The  joy  has  made  him 
light-headed,"  she  explained  to  Miss  Burleigh. 

57.  "  No,"  he  denied,  "  it  has  made  me  level-headed. 
Someone  must  be.  That  is  why  I  asked  '  What  is  to  be 
done  ? '  You  see,  /  once  read  The  Blue  Lagoon — that 
book  Van  Duyne  speaks  about." 

58.  "What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  shrilly  chal- 
lenged Miss  Burleigh.  "  This  isn't  a  time  to  talk  about 
books." 

59.  "  We  can  start  for  San  Francisco,  first  thing  to- 
morrow morning,"  declared  Mrs.  Craig.  "  And  from 
there " 

60.  "  Yes,"  interposed  her  husband,  "  from  there — 
where  ?  " 

61.  "  To  the  island,  of  course — by  the  first  ship  we  can 
charter.     By  the " 

62.  "  Where  ?  "  doggedly  insisted  Craig.  "  Where  is 
the    island  ?      The   South    Seas    are   fairly   aswarm   with 


The  Unknown  115 

islands — thousands  and  thousands  of  them,  big  and  little. 
That's  what  Polynesia  means.  It's  Greek  for  Many 
Islands.     Polloi  means  many,  and  nesos  means " 

63.  "  But  Professor  Van  Duyne  lived  there  six  months. 
Surely,  he " 

64.  "  How  could  he  know  ?  "  asked  Craig.  "  He  had 
no  instruments,  no  chart.  He  himself  said  that  he  had  no 
means  of  guessing  except  in  the  most  general  way,  where 
he  was.  He  traveled  three  days  from  the  spot  the  Aloha 
went  down.  But  in  what  direction  and  at  what  speed  ? 
There  are  probably  fifty  islands  in  a  two-hundred-mile 
circle  from  the  place  where  the  Aloha  sank.  And  we've 
only  a  vague  knowledge  as  to  where  she  sank.  The  wreck 
was  never  located,  and  the  ship's  log  wasn't  saved." 

65.  "  But  the  whaler !  "  cried  Mrs.  Craig  in  triumph, 
"  the  whaler  that  picked  up  Professor  Van  Duyne ! 
Surely  the " 

66.  "  The  whaler  was  an  old  ship  fifteen  years  ago," 
countered  her  husband.  "  She's  probably  been  broken  up 
or  gone  to  the  bottom  years  ago.  And  her  captain  would 
be  impossible  to  locate,  even  if  he  is  still  alive.  He  was 
an  elderly  man,  Van  Duyne  told  us.  And  that  was  in 
1901.  The  crew  are  scattered,  of  course.  And  probably 
the  ship's  log  could  never  be  found,  now — even  if  the  log 
made  record  of  the  exact  latitude  and  longitude  of  an 
island,  off  the  regular  track,  where  the  ship  was  blown  by 
a  gale  and  where  she  watered.  They're  notoriously  care- 
less, those  whaling-men,  in  recording  anything  except 
catches  and  deaths  and  accidents " 

67.  "  Mr.  Craig !  "  broke  in  Miss  Burleigh,  "  I  am  a 
fairly  well-to-do  woman,  as  you  may  know.  I  don't  spend 
one-fifth  of  my  income — because  I  don't  need  to.    And  I 


116  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

am  going  to  spend  every  cent  of  money  I  have  in  tte 
■world,  if  I  have  to,  to  find  my  boy.  I'm  going  to  charter 
a  ship — not  one  ship — a  dozen  ships.  I'm  going  to  have 
the  South  Seas  combed  with  a  fine-tooth  comb.  I'm  going 
to  offer  a  reward  of  fifty  thousand  dollars " 

68.  "  A  reward ! "  eagerly  chimed  in  Mrs.  Craig. 
"  That's  it !  We'll  hoih  offer  a  reward — a  reward  big 
enough  to  set  every  Pacific  skipper  to  hunting  for  them. 
Oh,  we'll  find  them,  that  way.  Something  tells  me  we 
shall !     And  we'll  charter  a  ship,  too — and " 

69.  "One  minute!"  said  Craig  gravely.  "Do  you 
realize  what  this  means  ?     Do  you  realize " 

70.  "  I  realize  I  want  my  little  girl — my  only  baby !  " 
flamed  Mrs.  Craig. 

71.  "  And  I  want  my  boy !  "  sobbed  Miss  Burleigh, 
"  — the  splendid  little  boy  who  never  knew  any  mother 
but  me.  He  was  only  my  nephew.  But  no  mother  could 
have " 

72.  "  You  don't  understand  me,"  intervened  Craig. 
"  Let  me  put  it  as  kindly  as  I  can." 

73.  He  paused  to  collect  his  words  in  the  order  he 
desired.     Then  he  continued : 

74.  "  You  say  you  want  your  children.  Miss  Burleigh, 
your  '  little  boy  '  was  fifteen  when  you  lost  him.  Our  little 
girl  was  fourteen.  That  was  fifteen  years  ago,  last  week. 
If  they  are  living,  Mark  is  thirty.  Marguerite  is  twenty- 
nine.     Does  that  mean  nothing  to  you?     Think  it  over." 

75.  "  It  means  that  they  have  grown  up,  of  course," 
said  Miss  Burleigh.  "  But  w^e  can  make  up  to  them  for 
all  their  years  of  exile  there,  and " 

76.  "Can  weV 


The  Unknown  117 

77.  Craig  fairly  shot  the  question  at  her. 

78.  "  Can  we  make  it  up  to  them  ?  If  they  are  alive, 
they  have  lived  since  childhood  the  lives  of  savages — with 
no  books,  no  advice,  no  civilized  surroundings,  no  teach- 
ings— except  Nature's.  They  have  fished,  hunted,  eaten, 
drunk,  slept.  They  have  lived  for  more  than  half  their 
lives  as  young  savages  might  live.  'No," — forestalling  an 
interruption  from  his  wife, — "  not  as  young  savages,  but 
as  animals.  For  young  savages  would  have  tribal  cus- 
toms and  traditions  and  folklore  and  the  experience  of 
their  elders  to  guide  them.  These  two  children  had  not 
even  that.  If  that  cur  Van  Duyne  had  stayed  there  with 
them,  it  would  have  been  different.  But  he  stayed  only 
long  enough  to  teach  them  how  to  sustain  life — not  how 
to  live  life.  They  would  be  dragged  back  here — two 
savages,  nothing  better !  Perhaps  something  worse !  Is 
it  fair  to  them  ?     Is  it  fair  to  us  ? 

79.  "  Have  you  any  idea,"  persisted  Craig,  "  in  how 
brief  a  time  a  whole  civilized  community  can  revert  to 
barbarism,  if  it's  left  to  itself?  Then  how  about  two 
children  who  grow  up  as  ours  have — if  they've  lived  to 
grow  up  at  all  ?  How  about  clothes  ?  How  about  mental 
exercises?    How  about " 

80.  "  Then  we  must  make  up  to  them,  all  the  more, 
for  what  they  have  missed,"  purred  Miss  Burleigh 
benevolently. 

81.  With  a  groan,  Bruce  Craig  gave  up  the  battle. 

82.  "  All  right!  "  he  agreed  drearily.  "  Have  it  your 
own  way!  I'll  do  all  I  can.  I'll  do  all  any  mortal  can 
do.  I  promise  that.  Only,  I  insist  that  you  leave  the 
whole  matter  in  my  hands  for  the  present.  I'll  arrange 
for  offering  the  reward  and  for  chartering  a  boat  and 


lis  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

evervtliiiig.  And  Til  use  all  the  speed  and  all  the  skill 
that  money  can  snpply.  Only,  I  want  you  not  to  take  any 
steps  until  I've  succeeded  or  failed.     Will  you  agree  ?  " 

S3.  In  the  end,  because  he  was  a  man  and  she  a 
spinster,  Miss  Burleigh  agreed.  And  because  she  had  a 
way  of  obeying  when  she  saw  that  queer,  set  look  around 
his  mouth,  Mrs.  Craig  assented  too. 

84.  And  that  night  as  he  lay  awake  and  hot-eyed  beside 
his  slumbering  wife,  Bruce  Craig  whispered  over  and 
over  to  himself  in  agony  of  soul : 

85.  "  My  little  girl !  Dad's  own,  own  baby  girl !  God 
in  His  mercy  grant  that  you're  safely  dead!  God  grant 
you  died  while  you  were  still  my  baby  girl !  " 

86.  In  the  morning  Craig  was  quite  grumpy  and 
businesslike  at  breakfast,  and  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  the  tidings  of  the  night  before  until  Mrs.  Craig 
recalled  the  matter  to  his  mind.  And  before  the  meal  was 
fairly  finished,  he  left  the  house. 

87.  He  did  not  go,  as  usual,  to  his  office,  but  instead  to 
the  Public  Library.  There,  consulting  newspaper  files  of 
August,  1902,  he  found  the  story  of  Van  Duyne's  rescue. 
The  account  gave  the  name  of  the  whaler  and  of  its  captain, 
— also  the  shipping  firm  that  owned  the  vessel.  It  was  a 
New  York  firm. 

88.  Craig  jotted  down  the  firm's  address  and  went 
thither.     Two  hours  later  he  was  climbing  the  front  steps 


86-88.  These  paragraphs  might  be  put  into  a  single  sentence: 
"  Craig  at  last  found  the  old  captain  who  had  commanded  the 
whaler."  But  the  fuller  form  helps  in  making  us  live  through  the 
events,  stage  by  stage,  thus  creating  in  us  more  strongly  the  sense 
of  personal  experience.     Cf.  introd.  n.  3;  S.  S.,M.,  192:6.. 


The  Unknown  119 

of  a  jerry-built  New  Jersey  cottage.  He  was  the  bearer 
of  a  strong  note  of  introduction  from  the  whaling  firm,  to 
the  whaler's  ex-captain,  Hiram  H.  Ranee — who  had  for 
five  years  been  on  the  retired  list  and  who  was  ending  his 
days  here  in  a  suburban  dry-dock. 

89.  Like  many  another  seafaring  man  who  is  an  unholy 
terror  on  his  own  quarterdeck,  Captain  Hiram  H.  Eance, 
ashore,  proved  to  be  a  mild-mannered  and  deprecatory  old 
chap,  with  watery  blue  eyes  and  a  lonesome-looking  white 
patch  of  chin  beard. 

90.  He  received  Craig,  non-committally,  in  the  cot- 
tage's atrocious  sitting-room,  and  very  carefully  read  the 
firm's    note    of    introduction.      Then    he    read    it    again. 


89.  Here  and  in  later  paragraphs,  care  is  taken  to  make  us 
appreciate  the  character  of  Captain  Ranee.  (On  characterization 
of  subordinate  persons,  see  S.  S.  M.,  182:6-9.)  One  reason  for 
this  is,  that  the  author  wishes  us  to  realize  how  the  pi'oblem  strikes 
different  types  of  person.  We  have  seen  how  the  mother  and 
aunt — the  women  most  closely  bound  to  the  castaways  by  human 
ties — feel  about  it;  how  the  father  feels  and  reasons  about  it. 

Now  we  are  to  see  how  it  strikes  such  a  man  as  Ranee,  who 
on  the  one  hand  has  been  accustomed  to  situations  where  senti- 
ment has  no  place  and  where  men  learn  to  deal  with  the  bare 
actualities  of  life,  but  who  on  the  other  hand  has  plenty  of 
"  human  "  quality  and  whose  love  for  his  own  "  little  giil  "  quali- 
fies him  to  appreciate  the  parental  and  "  heart  factors  "  of  the 
problem ;  and  who  moreover  knows  at  first  hand  what  the  chil- 
dren will  have  become,  because  his  whaling  life  has  acquainted 
him  with  all  the  aspects  of  human  degeneration  from  that  of  the 
seaman  and  whaler  down  to  that  of  the  beach-comber  and  the 
barbarian  tribe. 

There  is  also  another  reason  for  making  us  realize  his  char- 
acter. He  is  to  be  the  father's  proxy  in  determining  the  prac- 
tical solution  of  the  concrete  problem;  therefore  we  must  have 
confidence  in  his  human  sympathy  on  the  one  side  and  his  bal- 
anced worldly  judgment  on  the  other.  (Note  par.  90,  which 
shows  what  his  social  standards  will  be  in  making  his  judgment 


120  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

After  that  he  visibly  threw  aside  the  reserve  so  proper  to 
a  sailor  who  is  approached  by  a  prosperous-looking  lands- 
man and  placed  himself  wholly  at  his  guest's  service. 
"  Owners'  Orders  "  are  shipmasters'  Ten  Commandments. 

91.  Craig  told  his  story  succinctly,  yet  in  a  way  that 
made  Ranee  understand  the  terrible  problem  that  faced 
his  guest  and  to  do  mental  homage  to  the  speaker's  self- 
control.  Then  Craig  began  to  ask  questions.  And  Cap- 
tain Hiram  H.  Ranee  gave  full  and  careful  replies. 

92.  Yes,  Ranee  had  perfect  recollection  of  the  island 
and  of  Van  Dunne's  rescue.  The  matter  had  not  only  been 
entered  in  the  whaler's  log  but  in  the  private  diary  which 
the  Captain  had  religiously  kept  since  boyhood  (and 
which,  after  brief  rummaging,  he  now  produced  from  a 
sea-chest  in  the  attic). 

93.  Here  was  the  entry — six  lines  in  all.  And  here, 
of  course,  were  the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the  island. 

94.  Yes,  and  Captain  Hiram  distinctly  remembered 
the  professorial  castaway's  story  of  two  fellow-refugees. 
He  had  believed  Van  Duyne's  later  assertion  that  there 

— not  those  of  wealth  and  cultured  refinement,  but  those  of  the 
ordinary  everyday  "  common "  class.  The  gi'ound  is  thus  cut 
skillfully  from  under  the  possible  idea  that  such  castaways  might 
fall  into  common  life  •well  enough  even  if  existence  in  the  refined 
and  intellectual  surroundings  of  the  Craig  and  Burleigh  class 
required  impossible  adjustments;  for  Ranee  makes  us  perceive 
that  such  castaways  would  be  misfits,  not  with  this  or  that  social 
class  merely,  but  with  civilized  society  in  any  class.) 

94-103.  The  reluctance  of  the  Captain  to  come  to  the  point  con- 
veys to  us  better  than  direct  statement  what  he  believes  about  the 
survival  of  the  children  and  what  his  judgment  is  on  the  problem 
itself;  evidently  he  feels  that  in  letting  the  father  know  his 
daughter  did  not  perish,  he  is  giving  evil  news  (cf.  par.  85). 
(Note  that  the  Captain  nowhere  expresses  a  direct  opinion.  This 
is  true   to   human   nature,   for  most   of  us   would  evade   in   the 


The  Unknown  121 

were  no  such  refugees.  He  had  believed  it,  and  in  his 
heart  he  had  been  glad,  for  he  had  been  irked  at  the  need 
of  leaving  two  white  people  there  for  the  sake  of  his  ship's 
safety.     He  had  believed  the  story,  until — until 

95.  "  You  see,  sir,  it's  this  way :  That  island,  now — 
she's  off  the  beaten  track.  She's  far-an'-away  off  the  trade- 
routes  an'  travel-lanes.  I  knew  her,  because  when  I  was 
mate  on  the  Annie  S.  (out  o'  Gloucester,  you  know)  back 
in  1887,  we  touched  there  for  water.  That's  why  I  tried 
to  water  there  when  we  were  blowed  out  of  our  course  the 
time  we  picked  up  your  professor.  I  don't  believe  there's 
a  craft  of  any  kind  sights  that  island  twice  in  ten  years — 
let  alone  stops  there.  An'  for  some  queer  reason,  the 
natives  steer  clear  of  it.    It  isn't  even  charted." 

96.  "  Well  ?  "  asked  Craig  impatiently  as  the  narrator's 
rambling  talk  trailed  away. 

97.  "  Well," — Captain  Hiram  took  up  his  seemingly 
aimless  tale, — "  I  was  retired,  back  in  Jan'ry,  nineteen- 
eleven.  My  last  voy'ge  ended  a  week  before  that.  A  three- 
year  cruise  it  was." 

98.  Again  he  paused,  cleared  his  throat,  and  looked 
uncomfortable. 

99.  "  In  St.  John's,  it  was,  on  the  home-stretch,"  he 
added,  "  that  I  met  up  with  Cap'n  Boyd  of  the  Speed  an' 
Follow.  (He  went  down  with  his  ship  an'  all  hands,  off 
Sable,  in  nineteen-twelve. )  Him  an'  me  got  to  chinning 
about  this  an'  that.    An'  he  said  he'd  read  in  a  newspaper 


same  way  in  like  circumstance,  and  it  accords  with  the  method 
of  the  story,  which  does  not  emphasize  the  outcome  (S.  S.  M., 
31:12),  but  seeks  rather  to  leave  us  with  a  sense  of  the  weight 
of  the  problem  itself.  See  comments  on  coherence  and  integra- 
tion of  impression-elements,  par.  139-147.) 


122  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

about  mo  picking  up  Professor  Van  Duyne  at  that  island, 
in  ninetecn-two.     lie  asked  nie  a  lot  about  the  location." 

100.  "  Well  ?  "  again  interrupted  Craig,  to  whom  these 
devious  reminiscences  were  a  growing  annoyance. 

101.  "  Well,"  said  Captain  Hiram  more  briskly,  as  if 
nettled  by  the  other's  impatience,  "  I  couldn't  make  out 
what  he  was  driving  at,  till  pretty  soon  he  tells  me  he 
sighted  that  island  early  in  nineteen-ten, — that's  'bout  five 
years  back,  now,  you  see, — being  blowed  off  his  course  by 
one  o'  those  mussy  little  tropic  typhoons,  same  as  I  was. 
He  passed  the  island  five  miles  to  south'ard.  An'  he  gave 
it  what  my  grandson  calls  '  the  once-over  '  with  his  glasses. 
He'd  heard  it  wasn't  inhabited.  But — on  the  beach  he 
saw — he  saw — two  natives." 

102.  "What?"  cried  Bruce  Craig  in  sudden  tense 
interest.    "  Two  natives  ?  " 

103.  "  Two  natives.  At  least — at  least,  he  thought 
they  must  be  natives.  An' — an'  he  thought  there  was  only 
two  of  them.  He  couldn't  be  sure.  The  day  wasn't 
bright,  an' " 

104.  Again  his  voice  trailed  away.  Craig  jumped  to 
his  feet,  walked  heavily  to  the  window  and  stared  out  for 
a  long  time  into  the  slushy  suburban  highway.  Over  and 
over  to  himself,  through  no  volition  of  his,  he  found  him- 
self repeating  the  Captain's  words : 

105.  "  He  thought  they  must  be  natives.  He  thought 
there  was  only  two  of  them !  " 

106.  Suddenly  Craig  turned  back  into  the  room. 

107.  "  Captain  Ranee !  "  he  said  sharply.  "  You 
spoke  just  now  of  your  grandson.    Have  you  a  daughter  ?  " 

108.  "  No  sir,"  answered  Ranee  in  surprise.  Then, 
his  voice  softening,  he  added: 


The  Unknown  123 

109.  "  Not  now.  Three  sons  and  the  grandson.  I 
hadn't  but  one  daughter,  ever.  She  was  took  to  heaven 
when  she  was  twelve — summer  complaint.  I  was  on  a 
cruise  at  the  time.  I  call  to  mind,  I  brought  her  home  a 
toy  theajter  from  Frisco,  that  trip,  an'  a  necklace  of 
abalone.  An'  she'd  been  dead  pretty  near  a  month  when 
I  got  to  shore.  She'd  of  been — she'd  of  been  thirty-one, 
this  next  March — eighth  of  March.  The  parson  told  me 
at  the  time  that  I'd  stop  grieving  for  her,  by  an'  by,  an' 
get  reconciled  to  her  being  took.  An'  maybe  I  will.  But 
I  don't  seem  to  make  very  much  progress.  It's  queer  how 
much  fonder  a  man  is  of  his  little  girl  than  he  is  of  his 
big,  noisy  sons,  an'  how  much  harder  it  is  to  forget  her. 
Little  girls  are  so  cute  an'  loving  an'  gentle,  an'  all  that. 
Why  did  you  ask  about  Tillie  ?  " 

110.  "  I  asked,"  said  Craig,  "  because  I  want  your  ad- 
vice— and  then  your  help.  I'll  pay  liberally  for  the  help. 
But  the  advice  must  come  as  a  gift  from  one  stricken 
father  to  another." 

111.  "  I  don't  seem  to  get  your  drift,  sir." 

112.  "  Then  I'll  ask  the  advice,  first,"  returned  Craig. 
"  Captain,  look  me  square  in  the  eyes  and  answer  me,  man 
to  man.  Knowing  the  circumstances  as  you  do,  would  you 
change  places  with  me  ?  " 

113.  "How  d'  you  mean?"  queried  Captain  Hiram, 
puzzled. 

114.  "I  mean,"  pursued  Craig,  "would  you  rather 
know  your  little  girl  had  died  before  the  world  could  lay 
its  dirty  claws  on  her — would  you  rather  know  she  is 


109.  Homely  words,  but  they  assure  us  that  whatever  part 
Captain  Ranee  has  to  perform  will  not  be  performed  without  full 
sympathy  and  sense  of  responsibility. 


124  Today's  Shoet  Stories  Analyzed 

happy  with  the  Savior  of  little  children — or  to  know  she 
might  still  be  alive,  under  the  same  conditions  that  my 
little  girl  is  alive — if  my  little  girl  is  really  alive  ?  " 

115.  "  Why — why,  what  a  queer  question  that  is, 
now!  "  sputtered  Captain  Hiram. 

116.  "It's  a  fair  question,"  insisted  Craig,  "and  it 
calls  for  a  fair  answer.  If  you  could  have  your  choice :  to 
know  your  daughter  is  where  she  is  and  as  she  is,  or  that 
she  is  as  my  daughter  is — which  would  you  choose  ?  " 

117.  "  I — I — "  began  the  Captain;  but  Craig  went  on: 

118.  "  And  if  your  daughter  were  still  alive  and  had 
been  living  as  my  daughter  has,  for  the  past  fifteen  years, 
would  you  bring  her  back  to  civilization  ?  Not  for  your 
own  sake,  but  for  hers?  Would  you  uproot  her  from  the 
life  that  an  unguided  Nature  has  taught  her  to  lead,  and 
transplant  her  in  twentieth-century  New  York?  Would 
it — or  wouldn't  it — be  fair  to  her  ?  " 

119.  For  a  long  minute,  Captain  Hiram  made  no 
reply.     Then  he  said,  with  seeming  irrelevance : 

120.  "  I  come  of  New  England  stock.  My  folks  was 
among  the  first  Deerfield  settlers.  You've  read,  in  the 
hist'ry-books,  about  the  Deerfield  mass'cre  ?  Well,  a  baby 
girl — one  of  my  fam'ly's  children — was  carried  off  by  the 
Injuns  during  that  mass'cre.  She  was  brought  up  a 
savage,  an'  she  married  a  savage.  Twenty  years  later  her 
folks  got  news  about  her,  and  they  brought  her  back  to 
civ'lization  an'  to  their  own  home  in  Deerfield.  She  was 
a  savage,  an'  her  ways  was  the  ways  of  a  savage.  She 
pined  for  the  Injuns.  An'  as  soon  as  she  could,  she  ran 
away,  back  to  the  Injuns.  An' — her  folks  was  glad 
enough  to  let  her  go.     That's  a  true  story.     You'll  find  it 


The  Unknown  125 

in  the  hist'ry-books.     Maybe  it  has  some  bearing  on  your 
question.     An',  again,  maybe  it  hasn't." 

121.  "It  comes  as  near  to  answering  it  as  I'm  likely  to 
get,"  said  Craig  after  a  moment's  hesitation.  "  And  as 
near  to  it  as  I  have  any  right  to  expect.  So  much  for  the 
advice.  Now  for  the  help  I  spoke  of.  Captain  Ranee, 
will  a  bonus  of  five  thousand  dollars,  and  all  expenses 
paid,  induce  you  to  charter  a  ship  and  go  to  the  island 
with  me  to  bring  back  my  daughter  and  Mark  Burleigh  ?  " 

122.  "  Hey  ?  "  grunted  the  astonished  seaman. 

123.  "  Remember,"  added  Craig,  "  I  foot  every  bill. 
And  you  get  not  only  master's  pay  from  the  minute  you 
sign  on,  but  a  five-thousand-dollar  bonus — half  of  it  in 
advance." 

124.  "  But — but,  Mr.  Craig,"  faltered  Captain  Hiram, 
his  brain  buzzing  with  the  temptation  to  add  so  much  easy 
money  to  his  meager  savings.  "But  why  me?  There's 
scores  of  younger  men " 

125.  "  You  are  the  man  I  want,"  said  Craig  tensely. 
"  I've  decided  that,  since  I've  been  here.  You  are  the 
man  I  want,  because  you  understand.  To  the  ordinary 
shipmaster,  it  would  be  only  a  job.    Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

126.  In  the  end.  Captain  Hiram  consented. 


126-130.  Endeavor  to  decide  why  it  is  better,  for  the  purposes 
of  this  story,  to  have  the  father  left  behind  and  the  visit  to  the 
island  made  by  an  outsider — a  man  like  Captain  Ranee.  Would 
the  plot-outcome  (S.  S.  M.,  31:12;  24:1-2)  be  given  too  much 
emphasis  were  the  father  brought  face-to-face  with  his  child  and 
forced  to  decide  his  problem  in  those  emotional  circumstances'? 
Would  his  decision,  whichever  way  it  fell,  be  more  likely  to  seem 
to  readers  either  emphatically  wrong  or  emphatically  right — the 
outcome  thus  in  either  case  transforming  itself  into  a  too  definite 
answer  that  would  minimize  our  sense  of  the  unsolvable  nature 
of  the  problem  itself  despite  any  outcome  of  the  plot  (see  close 


12G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

127.  Next  morning  Captain  Hiram  and  Bruce  Craig 
started  together  for  San  Francisco.  Craig,  by  super- 
hiiuian  eloquence  and  argument  and  bulldozing,  prevailed 
on  the  two  women  to  remain  in  Xew  York  until  his  cable 
from  Honolulu,  on  the  return  trip,  should  apprise  them 
whether  or  not  there  was  need  for  them  to  come  out  to 
California  to  meet  him. 

128.  Six  days  later,  on  the  slippery  docks  of  San 
Francisco,  Craig  fell,  breaking  his  right  leg  in  two  places 
— one  of  the  breaks  being  a  compound  fracture. 

129.  Two  months  in  the  hospital  was  the  very  best  the 
local  surgeon  could  promise  the  sufferer.  And  Captain 
Hiram  perforce  chartered  a  ship  and  set  sail  without  him. 
On  the  eve  of  sailing  the  Captain  came  to  the  hospital 
for  final  orders. 

130.  "  I'm  doubly  glad  I  chose  you  for  this  job  instead 


of  n.  on  pars.  94-103)? — Since  the  method  of  the  presentation 
is,  to  make  us  appreciate  the  problem  by  carrying  us  imagina- 
tively through  a  series  of  experiences  attendant  on  a  concrete 
instance  (introd.  n.  3),  will  the  story  gain  or  lose  in  effect  if  it 
is  kept  all  the  time  a  trifle  vague  and  uncertain  as  to  the  truth 
of  the  facts  involved? — that  is,  does  not  the  author  wish  us  all 
through  the  stoiy  to  feel  the  mood  of  uncertainty  and  hope  and 
fear  that  Craig  felt ;  and,  since  we  put  ourselves  in  Craig's  place 
in  reading,  should  we  not  have  this  mood  changed  over  into  one 
of  certainty  and  perhaps  horrified  grief  were  Ave  along  with  him 
brought  face-to-face  with  the  reality?  Is  not  this  uncertainty  an 
essential  part  of  the  impression  aimed  at,  and  is  not  the  outcome 
for  this  reason  so  managed  that  even  Craig  himself  is  left  still 
with  some  little  room  to  doubt,  some  small  ground  for  hope,  con- 
cerning his  child's  fate?  Finally,  would  not  Craig's  conduct, 
if  he  in  person  were  the  one  who  decided  to  leave  the  castaways 
on  the  island,  so  revolt  our  mstincts  that  we  should  cease  to 
sympathize  with  him  and  thereby  lose  our  realizing  sense  of  the 
problem  because  we  have  lost  our  favorable  feeling  for  the  person 
through  whom  the  problem  is  revealed? 


The  Unknown  127 

of  any  other  man,"  said  Craig,  who  was  reclining  with  his 
plaster-cast  leg  thrust  grotesquely  out  in  front  of  him, 
"  doubly  glad.  Because  on  this  quest,  you've  got  to  be 
not  only  Captain  Hiram  H.  Ranee  but  Bruce  Craig  as 
well.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  You've  got  to  use  not  only 
your  own  judgment,  but  mine  as  well.  I — I  can't  speak 
any  more  plainly.  I  have  no  right  to — not  even  to  myself. 
But — but  keep  on  thinking  of  your  own  little  girl  when 
you  go  to  look  for  mine.  Just  imagine  you're  Bruce  Craig, 
in  search  of  Hiram  Ranee's  lost  daughter.     I — I " 

131.  "  I  guess  I  catch  your  signals,"  said  Ranee  gruffly, 
blinking  very  fast.  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Craig.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  I'd  rather  do  a  month  in  irons  in  the  booby 
hatch,  than  tote  the  load  you've  just  crowded  onto  my 
shoulders.  I'll  have  to  act  as  the  Good  Man  gives  me  light 
to.    That's  the  best  anyone  can  do." 

132.  Eight  weeks  later  Bruce  Craig,  supported  by  a 
crutch  and  a  cane,  hobbled  forward  to  greet  Captain 
Hiram  H.  Ranee  as  the  latter  entered  the  hotel  room 
whither  Craig  had  been  removed  from  the  hospital  two 
days  earlier. 

133.  "  Your  '  JSTo-one-alive-on-island  '  cable  from  Hono- 
lulu kept  me  from  boarding  the  first  liner  and  coming  out 
to  meet  you,"  said  Craig  as  the  Captain  silently  shook 
hands  with  him.     "  You've  nothing  to  add  to  that  ?  " 

134.  "  I'm  glad  you're  on  your  legs  again,"  replied  the 
Captain,  finding  his  voice  with  some  effort  and  speaking 
with    unwonted    effusion.      "  You're    looking    better'n    I 

133.  Another  of  the  reminders  that  under  Craig's  reasoned  con- 
viction is  the  volcano  of  a  father's  feeling.  By  such  means  we 
are  kept  from  misjudging  Craig — which  would  mean  a  failure 
to  appreciate  his  problem.     See  n.  on  pars.  139-147. 

134-136.    Cf.  pars.  94-103,  note. 


128  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

oxpoctod  to  SCO  you,  after  siu-li  a  lay-by.  I'm  sorry  you've 
had  to  pay  out  so  inucli  good  money,  too,  on  a  fool's  er- 
rand.    I^ — " 

135.  *'  Tell  me  about  it !  Sit  down  and  tell  mc  about 
it — everything.  You  found  the  island  without  any 
trouble?" 

136.  ''  Found  it  ?  "  repeated  Captain  Hiram  with  fine 
scorn.  "  Why  wouldn't  I  find  it  ?  Give  me  the  latitood 
and  longitood  of  a  place,  an'  I'll  find  it  as  easy  as  you'd 
find  a  house-number.     Any  navigator  can.     I " 

137.  "  Captain,"  interposed  Craig,  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  what  you  found  there.  And — it's  only  a  detail,  of 
course — I  wish  you  would  humor  a  sick  man's  whim  by 
looking  at  me  instead  of  at  the  floor.  You  got  to  the 
island.    Well  ?    What  then  ?  " 

138.  "  We  searched  three  days  high  an'  low,"  said 
Eance  glibly,  like  one  who  repeats  a  well-learned  lesson. 
"  X ot  a  living  soul  there — not  anywhere.  We  stumbled 
onto  an  old  thatch,  at  last.  It  was  overgrown  with  jungle 
an'  looked  like  a  landsman  had  built  it — Van  Duyne,  most 
likely.  An' — brace  yourself,  take  it  brave,  sir — in  sep'- 
rate  corners  of  the  shack  we  come  upon  two  skel'tons — of 
a  boy  an'  girl,  it  looked  like — about  fifteen  years  old,  I 
should  say.  I  take  it  they'd  died  of  hunger  or  something 
when  Van  Duyne  wasn't  there  any  longer  to  teach  'em 
what  to  eat.  That  man  had  ought  to  have  been  hanged, 
for  leaving  them.  We  buried  the  bones,  an'  I  read  a 
service  over  'em.  Then  we  provisioned  with  a  lot  of  fresh 
fruits  an'  fish  an'  the  like,  an'  we  came  back." 

139.  "  You  were  able  to  provision  your  ship  there," 

139-147.  Here  is  the  plot-outcome  (S.  S.  M.,  24:1-2),  which 
leads  us  to  infer  that  Captain  Ranee  found  the  castaways  alive, 


The  Unknown  129 

commented  Craig,  "  and  yet  you  say  they  died  of  starva- 
tion ?    After  Van  Duyne  had  taught  them  how  to  fish  and 

to  trap  and  to " 

1-iO.  ''  I  didn't  say  they  starved,"  growled  Eance 
crossly.  ''  I  only  said  I  s'posed  so.  All  I  know  is  that  I 
found  their " 

141.  "  And  there  were  no  natives  on  the  island  ?  " 

142.  "  Not  a  one.  Not  a  sign  of  any  living  person, 
native  or  white." 

143.  "  Yet  your  friend  told  you  he  saw  two  people — 
at  least  two  people  there,  five  years  ago.  Marguerite  and 
Mark  would  have  been  twenty-four  and  twenty-five  years 
old  at  that  time.  The  skeletons,  you  say,  were  of  a  boy 
and  girl  of  about  fifteen  ?  " 


and  decided  that  it  would  be  better  to  leave  them  as  they  were;  and 
that  in  his  judgment  Craig  and  the  womenfolk  would  be  happier 
if  they  could  be  convinced  that  the  children  perished  when  Van 
Duyne  abandoned  them.  But  in  obedience  to  the  governing  prin- 
ciple of  problem-stories,  the  author  makes  the  outcome  merely 
a  plot-outcome,  and  not  an  answer,  one  way  or  the  other,  to  the 
question,  which  is  best?  On  the  contrary,  he  manages  it  so  that 
at  the  end  we  are  left  asking  ourselves,  what  should  I  have 
done?  That  is,  he  has  left  us  with  a  sense  of  the  problem,  not  with 
a  solution  of  it.  We  are  now  in  a  position  to  note  a  significant 
fact  about  Craig's  conduct  and  the  character  of  the  man  as  indi- 
cated by  it.  His  conduct  has  all  along  been  governed  by  two 
aims — to  take  that  course  which  would  be  for  the  best  as  con- 
cerned his  daughter  and  the  boy,  and  then  as  concerned  his  wife 
and  Miss  Burleigh;  not  a  trace  of  selfishness  appears  in  him. 
Yet  he  had  to  bear  also  his  own  burden,  and  it  was  heavier  than 
theirs,  because  he  realized  so  much  better  than  the  others  the 
tragedy  of  the  children's  survival.  Besides,  he  suspected  in  his 
heart,  though  he  might  at  times  permit  himself  to  dream  the 
opposite,  that  Ranee  had  found  the  castaways  alive,  and  that 
he  himself  could  still  rescue  them.  Henceforth,  therefore,  he  had 
the  terrible  burden  of  protecting  the  women  from  the  truth,  and 


130  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

144.  "Look  here,  Mr.  Craig!"  bellowed  Ranee  in 
sudden  rage,  "  I  ain't  used  to  having  my  word  ques- 
tioned  " 

145.  "  Did  you  ever  study  physiognomy,  Captain 
Ranee  ?  "  asked  Craig  very  quietly.  "  I  ask  because  a 
study  of  physiognomy  has  taught  me  two  things :  one  is 
that  a  thoroughly  angry  or  indignant  man  always  looks 
straight  into  the  other  fellow's  eyes.  The  other  is  that  an 
amateur  liar  always  clenches  his  fists  when  he's  telling  his 
most  important  lies." 

146.  "  What's  all  that  got  to  do  with " 

147.  "  With  the  fact  that  you've  been  looking  every- 
where except  at  me  ?  "  broke  in  Craig's  dead  voice,  "  and 


yet  of  eternally  questioning  his  judgment  and  decision.  Unless 
we  realize  this,  we  shall  not  fully  realize  the  intensity  of  his 
struggle;  and  unless  we  realize  the  intensity  of  Craig's  struggle, 
we  shall  not  realize  the  spiritual  intensity  of  the  story  in  which 
this  struggle  is  presented. 

Coming  thus  to  technical  interpretation  again,  we  now  note  the 
remarkable  coherence  of  the  impression-producing  elements  of  the 
story  (S.  S.  M.,  19:1-3).  It  appears  first  in  the  method  employed, 
which  causes  the  reader  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  the  rela- 
tives— ultimately  in  the  place  of  Ci'aig — thus  vicariously  living 
through  an  experience  identical  with  theirs,  so  realizing  in  its  full 
intensity  the  struggle  that  takes  place.  Then  it  appears  in  the 
masterly  devices  employed  for  the  maintenance  of  unity  of  mood 
(for  one  illustration,  return  to  pars.  126-130),  including  the 
skillful  management  by  which  the  outcome,  instead  of  seeming 
to  end  the  problem,  leaves  the  reader  still  questioning  himself, 
"  Which  would  be  right  ?  What  should  I  do  in  Craig's,  or  even 
Ranee's,  place?  " 

As  an  example  of  integration,  therefore,  "  The  Unknown " 
deserves  the  most  careful  and  intimate  study  by  the  student  of 
technique.  See  S.  S.  M.,  166:23  for  definition;  for  pertinent 
comment,  see  S.  S.  M.,  180:4-5;  183:8;  184:10-15;  16:3-5; 
47:10;  50:15;  63:13;  66:17;  90:10;  107:30-32;  109:33; 
112 :  39 ;  158 :  11-12 ;  168 :  26-27 ;  192 :  6-7. 


The  Unknown  131 

that  your  fists  are  so  tightly  clenched  that  the  knuckles 
are  bone-white  ?  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  We'll  start  back 
for  New  York,  this  evening,  you  and  I.  You've  earned 
your  pay,  if  ever  a  man  did.  You're  a  good  fellow.  Ranee. 
And  a — a  good  father !  " 


THE  LOVE  OF  MEN 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  A  theme  story.  The  themo  is  presented  or  rein- 
forced in  four  places.  First,  it  is  embodied  in  the  plot- 
conception  itself.  The  germ  of  this  is :  Two  men  love  each 
other  so  well  that,  to  determine  which  shall  sacrifice  him- 
self for  the  other's  happiness,  they  undertake  an  adven- 
ture meaning  almost  certain  death,  and  discover  thereby 
that  they  are  more  to  each  other  than  anything  else  can 
be.  Second,  it  is  implied  in  the  paragraphs  that  give  the 
main  part  of  the  exposition  (49-56).  Third,  it  is  ex- 
pressed in  St.  Mar's  speech  in  par.  88.  Fourth,  it  is  again 
expressed  in  the  paragraph  of  Bossu's  philosophical  com- 
ment at  the  end  (103).  We  may  infer  that  the  story  had 
its  origin  in  a  proposition  embodying  the  theme,  and  that 
the  w^orking-plot  was  built  up  to  illustrate  this  central 
thought. 

2.  The  reader  leaves  the  story  with  the  feeling  that, 
although  impressive  emotionally,  it  yet  does  not  attain  full 
emotional  effectiveness.  This  is  partly  because  it  fails  to 
attain  essential  atmosphere.  Intense  emotional  experience 
on  the  part  of  the  two  chief  persons  is  not  as  apparent  as 
it  could  be.  Among  the  reasons  for  this  are,  that  the  be- 
ginning does  not  effectively  strike  this  keynote ;  and  pos- 
sibly that  the  passages  of  intensifying  description  are  too 
few,  or  inadequate.  (Cf.  "  Tropics,"  "  Nerve,"  "  The 
Great  God,"  et  al.) 

132 


The  Love  of  Men  133 

3.  The  partial  falling  short  mentioned  in  note  2  is 
also  owed  a  good  deal  to  the  angle  of  narration  adopted 
(S.  S.  M.,  138:3).  In  this  story,  narration  by  a  subor- 
dinate actor  proves  in  some  respects  disadvantageous. 
For  one  thing,  it  gives  us  part  of  the  most  critical  situa- 
tion at  second  hand  only.  The  early  part  of  the  journey 
of  the  two  friends  through  the  swamp  would  be  suspense 
material  of  great  intensity,  and  with  another  angle  of  ap- 
proach, could  be  worked  up  to  the  chief  point  of  emotional 
climax,  the  discovery  and  rescue.  But  from  the  angle  of 
narration  here  adopted,  this  useful  part  is  not  available, 
because  Bossu  was  not  with  either  man  during  this  period 
of  rising  suspense,  and  cannot  report  it  plausibly  except 
by  the  indirect  way  of  telling  his  anxiety.  Instead,  the 
discovery  and  escape,  in  which  he  took  a  leading  part  per- 
sonally, whereas  the  experiences  of  the  two  chief  persons 
before  this  climactic  incident  can  be  presented  only  by 
inference,  are  emphasized.  All  this  is  the  result  pri- 
marily of  choosing  the  angle  of  narration  necessary  to 
Bossu. 

4.  A  further  result  of  telling  the  story  through  Bossu  is, 
that  Bossu  tends  to  claim  and  hold  our  attention  as  much  as 
or  more  than  the  central  persons  do;  consider  (e.g.,)  pars. 
13-21,  in  which  the  two  friends  are  introduced  to  us.  ISTot 
what  they  are,  but  how  they  affected  Bossu,  impresses  us. 
Bossu  seems  thus  to  dominate  the  interest  more  or  less 
elsewhere  also;  in  pars.  66-76  he  is  clearly  more  interest- 
ing than  are  the  men  he  seeks,  and  in  the  last  par.  (103) 
it  is  Hunchback — le  Bossu — of  whom  we  think.  He  has 
a  more  definite  and  concrete  personality  than  the  central 
persons  have — once  more  largely  the  result  of  the  angle 
of  narration.     Bossu's  prominence  could  be  reduced  some- 


134  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

what,  and  the  narration  made  to  appear  more  impersonal, 
by  dropping  some  of  the  "  I  said  "  and  similar  expres- 
sions that  so  frequently  occur  in  Bossu's  sentences;  e.g., 
recast  the  first  sentence  of  par.  18  to  read,  "  Ah,  m'sicu, 

one  does  not  see  that  light  in  ."     Go  through  the 

story  making  similar  changes  wherever  possible,  and  note 
the  effect.  As  a  further  example,  make  par.  71  begin, 
"  Never  was  there  a  swamp  like  that  one  near  Anse  Le 
Vert." 

5.  On  the  matters  mentioned  in  the  preceding  com- 
ments, especially  that  in  notes  2,  3,  and  4,  comparison  of 
the  present  story  with  "  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle," 
"N"erve,"  "The  Great  God,"  "The  Opal  Morning," 
"  Little  Sunbeam,"  "  A  Quiet  Life,"  will  be  worth  while. 

6.  The  conception  of  motive  and  consequent  incident  is 
fundamentally  good.  The  theme  out  of  which  it  grows  is 
interesting  and  plausible — of  a  sort  to  arouse  reflection,  and 
of  especial  appeal  to  men.  (liote  that  the  story  appears  in 
"  Adventure.")  The  novelty  of  this  theme  is  in  its  favor 
— not  that  it  is  really  new,  but  that  it  is  comparatively  so 
little  used  in  our  day,  when  (according  to  some)  our  litera- 
ture has  lost  virility  by  devoting  itself  over  much  to  love 
themes  and  situations  of  a  sort  to  find  favor  with  readers 
of  women's  magazines.  Moreover,  this  conception  (once  we 
accept  the  motivating  assumption,  that  conflict  between  the 
love  of  men  for  each  other  and  their  love  for  the  same 
woman  might  produce  a  state  of  mind  in  which  they  would 
agree  upon  such  a  solution  of  their  problem)  becomes 
really  heroic,  producing  a  situation  as  intensely  romantic 
as  those  found  in  the  fiction  and  drama  of  the  Elizabethan 
periods  and  reminding  one  of  the  romantic  situations 
characteristic  of  medieval  fiction  down  to  the  time  of  The 


The  Love  of  Men  135 

Morte  Darthur.  Our  difficulty  about  believing  in  such 
a  state  of  mind  in  two  men  of  the  twentieth  century  may 
perhaps  be  set  down  as  an  indication  of  modern  matter- 
of-factness  and  a  changed  point  of  view  about  the  extent 
to  which  the  purely  emotional  shall  be  permitted  to  con- 
trol our  acts.  Some  critics  may  wish  to  throw  this  thought 
into  the  assertion  that  we  have  lost  the  power  to  sym- 
pathize with  emotional  situations  that  approach  the  heroic. 
Others  might  say  that  it  represents  a  different  view  about 
what  the  elements  of  romance  and  the  heroic  are — for 
example,  that  Lenoir,  in  "  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle,"  is 
more  heroic  than  the  two  romantic  emotionalists  of  Bossu's 
story.  Persons  who  wish  to  be  both  broad  and  deep  will 
endeavor  to  appreciate  and  sympathize  with  both  aspects 
of  heroism  and  human  nature,  recognizing  the  eternal 
man  under  different  forms  and  under  changing  fashions  of 
thought  and  art.  The  strangeness  to  us  of  any  fundamental 
element  of  human  life — e.g.,  this  form  of  heroic  char- 
acter— indicates  our  need  to  have  the  ideal  of  it  restored 
to  influence  among  us.  The  theme  and  romantic  basis  of 
the  present  story  are  therefore  worthy  to  be  pondered. 

7.  The  story  is  exceptional  in  structure  because  in  its 
rising  action  there  is  no  movement  representing  the  essen- 
tial part  of  the  climax — the  psychological  action  through 
which  the  spiritual  outcome  is  reached ;  and  because 
(therefore)  it  has  no  decisive  moment.  This  is  more  fully 
discussed  in  the  note  on  par.  81. 


THE  LOVE  OF  MEN" 
By  ISTevil  G.  Henshaw 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author,  from 

"Adventure"  for  June,   1915. 

(Copyrighted,  1915,  by  the  Kidgway  Company) 

1.  After  it  had  become  sadly  apparent  that  we  would 
see  no  more  ducks  until  the  evening  'passee,  the  little 
hunchback,  Jean  Le  Bossu,  produced  the  lunch  with  which 
he  seemed  always  to  be  miraculously  provided.  We  ate 
heartily,  for  it  was  our  first  bite  since  long  before  sunrise, 
and  then  when  the  last  crumb  was  gone,  stretched  out  be- 
hind our  blinds  to  enjoy  that  peace  and  contentment  which 
comes  only  with  tobacco  and  a  day  spent  in  the  open. 

2.  "  And  now  for  a  story,  Jean,"  I  suggested  when  my 
pipe  was  going  and  I  had  fixed  my  head  so  that  I  could 
just  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  long,  gray  line  of  the  Louisiana 
coast. 

3.  The  little  man  thought  for  a  moment  as  he  rolled 
his  pinch  of  tobacco  into  a  square  of  brown  paper. 

4.  "  A  story,  m'sieu  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Bien.  I  will  tell 
you  one,  and  I  will  also  answer  your  question  of  this 
morning. 

5.  "  You  remember  how,  just  before  a  flight,  you  asked 
me  if  in  my  position  as  guide  I  did  not  run  across  many 


1-5.  On  openings,  see  S.  S.  M.,  122-127.  In  this  story  we  have 
an  introduction,  not  an  immediate  opening  (S.  S.  M.,  148:17); 
and  it  is  unnecessary.  Its  chief  apology  is.  that  its  setting  agrees 
in  general  respects  with  the  setting  of  the  plot  incidents  (S.  S.  M., 

136 


The  Love  of  Men  137 

strange  events  and  people  ?  Listen  now  and  you  will  hear 
of  the  strangest  event,  the  most  curious  people,  that  it  has 
ever  been  my  lot  to  know." 

6.  It  came  about  some  years  ago,  in  the  early  winter 
when  the  birds  were  at  their  best.  For  two  weeks  I  had 
been  with  a  party  out  near  the  edge  of  the  gulf  and  so, 
Avhcn  they  returned  to  Anse  Le  Vert  and  I  went  with  them 
to  make  sure  that  their  effects  departed  safely,  I  was  very 
tired.  Yet  hardly  had  I  seen  them  off  when  fresh  work 
came  pulling  at  my  elbow. 

7.  This  time  it  was  Laperouse,  the  keeper  of  the  hotel 
and  coffee-house,  and  he  greeted  me  with  a  shout  of  satis- 
faction. 

8.  "  Bossu,"  he  cried.  "  I  thought  that  you  would 
never  return.    I  have  looked  for  you  every  day." 

9.  "  Yet  you  will  look  longer,  you  and  your  guests, 
Laperouse,"  said  L    "  First  of  all  I  must  have  some  rest." 

10.  But  Laperouse  was  not  to  be  denied. 


128-11),  thus  avoiding  inharmony,  and  that  it  is  brief.  Against 
the  need  of  its  employment  here  are:  That  it  fails  to  strike  the 
keynote  of  emotional  intensity  (S.  S.  M.,  124:  5-6;  127: 10)  ;  and 
that  it  is  unnecessary  otherwise,  serving  none  of  the  usual  pur- 
poses mentioned  in  S.  S.  M.,  127:9;  130,  end  of  12;  134:20; 
135 :  21 ;  137 :  2 ;  140 :  7-8 ;  149  :  18-19.  To  prove  that  this  intro- 
duction is  not  essential,  and  therefore  is  artistically  a  mistake, 
omit  it  entirely,  beginning  at  once  with  par.  6.  The  real  strength 
and  interest  of  the  story  at  once  stand  out  more  evidently. 

6-9.  Try  rearranging  the  sentences  in  these  paragraphs  in  this 
order:  1,  4,  5,  6,  7,^2,],  [3  omitted],  8.  Recast  [2]  thus:  "For 
two  weeks  I  have  been  with  a  party;  I  am  very  tired."  The 
revised  form  has  more  vigor;  it  gets  rid  of  prolix  explanation 
in  par.  5,  and  brings  action  on  more  quickly  (dialogue  is  a  form 
of  action;  S.  S.  M.,  229:2;  234:10),  substituting  speech  by  one 
of  the  persons  for  historical  statement  by  the  author. 


138  Toi>ay's  Shout  Stouies  Analyzed 

11.  "All,  no,  Bossii,"  ho  insisted.  ''This  will  be  a 
rest.  There  arc  but  two  of  them,  and  they  swear  that  they 
will  have  no  one  save  yourself.  Of  eourse  it  is  to  my  ad- 
vantaji^e '  to  keep  them,  but  if  they  stay  longer  they  will 
drive  me  mad.  Come,  Jean.  You  cannot  refuse.  There 
will  be  good  money  in  it  also." 

12.  And  thus  he  went  on  until  we  had  reached  the 
coifee-housc,  and  he  had  dragged  me  inside. 

13.  The  two  who  were  so  anxious  for  my  services  are 
not  hard  of  description.     They  were  young,  they  were 


11.  Is  this  stronfj  desire  for  Bossu  as  the  indispensable  guide 
sufficiently  motivated  (S.  S.  M.,  96:10)?  Why  did  St.  Mar  and 
Prevost  want  Bossu  so  much  above  any  other  guide  that  they 
would  thus  postpone  their  trial — on  which,  according  to  par. 
18  and  other  passages,  they  were  so  feverishly  set?  Is  this  part 
consistent  with  the  situation  outlined?  Is  it  one  of  the  things 
that  make  Bossu  seem  unduly  important,  as  mentioned  in  intro- 
ductory note  3?  Was  there  a  reason,  since  they  would  use  no 
guide,  why  any  boatman  could  not  have  served  them?  Or  did 
they  want  Bossu  because  of  his  reputation — a  man  they  could 
depend  on  to  wait  for  the  survivor  beyond  the  swamp,  and  bring 
him  out?  Or  was  it  that  the  unusual  nature  of  the  expedition 
demanded  a  man  who  would  respect  confidences  and  understand 
the  motive  of  the  two  friends  (par.  48)?  Whatever  the  reason 
(if  there  be  one)  is  it  sufficiently  indicated  to  support  the 
emphasis  of  Bossu's  importance  that  results  from  this  phase  of 
the  incident?  Cf.  pars.  16-17,  44-46,  48,  79,  88.—'  Is  the  phrase 
bookish  and  conventional?  Watch  for  others  of  like  etfect  and 
decide  if  they  are  incongruous  (S.  S.  M.,  236:12-13;  242:2-3; 
244:7;  91:13-14). 

12.  Would  anything  be  gained  by  splitting  par.  11  in  two,  and 
introducing  par.  12  (with  any  needed  rewording)  between  the 
parts  (after  sentence  4)? 

13.  Cf .  note  on  par.  11,  "  to  my  advantage."  The  occurrence  of 
stilted,  formal,  stiff,  bookish,  or  conventional  phrasing  blemishes 
style,  and  frequently  indicates  incomplete  mastery  of  the  pen. 
The  paragraph  will  be  improved  by  omitting  sentence  1  alto- 
gether, and  beginning  with  sentence  2  (change  "  They  "  into  "  The 


The  Love  of  Men  139 

from  the  city,  and  they  were  of  French  descent.  Both 
were  strong-limbed  and  muscular,  as  from  a  life  of  care, 
and  in  age,  in  weight,  and  in  height  there  was  little  dif- 
ference between  them.  Perhaps  the  one  who  was  called 
St.  Mar  was  a  little  the  older,  since  it  was  he  who  first  ad- 
dressed me.^ 

14.  "  You  are  Jean  Le  Bossu,"  he  asked. 

15.  "  I  am  he,  m'sieu,"  I  replied. 

16.  "  Good,"  he  returned.  "  And  now,  since  my  friend 
Prevost  and  I  have  already  waited  for  you  several  days, 
we  need  waste  no  time  in  haggling.  We  wish  to  go  upon 
a  hunting  expedition,  and,  through  the  recommendation 
of  friends,  we  particularly  want  you  as  our  guide.  We 
will  need  your  boat,  and  supplies  for  a  week.  Also  we 
wish  to  start  no  later  than  tomorrow  morning.  Here  is 
my  bill-book.  After  you  have  arranged  for  everything, 
take  out  what  you  consider  your  services  worth."  ^ 

17.  Now  this,  m'sieu,  was  a  pretty  compliment.  Tired 
though  I  was,  I  could  not  help  but  appreciate  it.     A  mo- 


two"). — Is  the  description  concrete  enough?  We  know  some- 
thing of  Bossu's  appearance,  but  what  do  the  two  persons-in- 
ehief  look  like?  Should  they  be  individualized?  Cf.  S.  S.  M., 
222:9;  224:12;  182:6;  209:3-212;  162:17;  258,  description.— 
^  A  touch  of  social  characterization,  because  it  hints  of  the 
precedence  that  custom  among  people  of  French  extraction  allows 
to  the  elder  and  the  deference  it  imposes  on  the  younger. 

16.  *  A  double-edged  character  hint,  characterizing  both  Bossu 
and  St.  Mar.  It  also  tends  to  intensify  our  feeling  of  signifleance 
in  the  situation  that  is  developing. 

17.  The  closing  sentence  is  a  good  touch  of  characterization, 
revealing  experience  and  knowledge  of  men  in  Bossu.  It  and  the 
remaining  paragraphs  as  far  as  par.  21  also  show  good  manage- 
ment of  motivation.  The  same  paragraphs  may  also  be  regarded 
an  interest  tickler;  they  lead  us  to  wonder  if  after  all  this  is 
merely  some  sort  of  treasure-hunting  incident.     (Note  that,  in 


140  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

lucut  I  stood  Avitli  the  bill-book  in  my  haiKl,  framing  my 
refusal,  and  as  I  did  so  my  eye  caught  a  certain  strange 
light  in  that  of  M'sicu  St.  Mar. 

18.  Ah,  m'sieu,  I  had  seen  that  light  before,  though 
not  in  the  eyes  of  huntsmen.  It  was  one  of  anxiety,  of 
impatience,  of  that  nerve-racking  suspense  when  each  mo- 
ment of  waiting  is  a  year  of  torture.  Looking  quickly  at 
M'sieu  Prevost,  I  surprised  the  same  light  in  his  eyes.  It 
was  then  that  I  understood  Laperouse's  desire  to  be  rid 
of  his  restless  guests.  It  was  then  also  that,  despite  my 
weariness,  I  changed  my  mind. 

19.  ^'  So,"  said  I  to  myself.  "  Your  trouble  is  easy  to 
read,  my  friends.  One  of  you  has  in  his  pocket  an  ancient 
chart  of  this  coast,  and  upon  that  chart  a  cross  marks  the 
resting-place  of  buried  treasure.  Xow  I,  who  all  my  life 
have  sought  unsuccessfully  for  one  of  these  gifts  of  M'sieu 
Lafitte,  am  still  of  a  mind  to  try.  There,  I  will  go  with 
you." 

20.  But  aloud  I  only  said : 

21.  "  Bien,  m'sicu.     It  shall  be  as  you  wish." 


so  far  as  Bossu's  conclusion  misleads  us  into  agreeing  with  him, 
it  is  a  surprise  device,  for  we  are  soon  to  find  the  conclusion 
wrong.  This  kind  of  surprise  we  may  call  internal  surprise,  in 
distinction  from  the  surprise  that  develops  only  at  the  end,  with 
a  surprise-plot.     S.  S.  M.,  39-40;  117 :  5.) 

19.  Observe  the  gain  by  reason  of  the  concrete  expression.  The 
same  thought,  but  not  the  same  vividness,  force,  and  interest 
would  have  been  there  if  the  passage  ran  thus:  So  you  are  look- 
ing for  buried  treasure. 

20.  Consistently  through  the  story  Bossu  shows  himself  a  man 
who  can  see  and  see  through,  but  keep  his  mouth  in  repose. 

21.  Here  ends  the  first  movement  of  the  story — its  preparatory 
stage.  In  the  paragraphs  that  it  includes  (6-21)  we  have  the 
three  persons  of  the  story  presented,  with  fragmentary  charac- 
terization  (more  complete  as  to  Bossu) ;  a  situation  indicated, 


The  Love  of  Men  141 

22.  We  left  next  morning  at  sunrise  and,  as  we  dropped 
down  the  bayou  to  the  bay,  M'sieu  St.  Mar  came  aft  to 
my  post  at  the  tiller. 

23.  "  And  which  shall  it  be,  m'sieu  ? "  I  inquired. 
"  Drake  Island  for  ducks,  or  the  passes  for  geese  ?  Or 
will  you  try  both  ?  " 

24.  But  M'sieu  St.  Mar  shook  his  head,  turning  and 
pointing  behind  us. 

25.  ''  N'either,  Le  Bossu,"  he  replied.  "  We  are  bound 
for  that  great  cypress  swamp  which  stretches  out  to  the 
westward  of  Anse  Le  Vert.  By  coasting  around,  how  long 
will  it  take  you  to  reach  its  outer  edge  ?  " 

26.  "  You  mean  the  Pointe  Noire,  of  course,"  said  I. 


with  unexplained  elements  of  intensity  growing  out  of  the  impa- 
tience and  anxiety  of  the  two  chief  actors;  a  forecast  of  the 
mood  of  the  story  (atmosphere),  produced  by  the  same  unex- 
plained cause  that  produces  the  anxiety;  and  the  real  plot-action 
prepared  for,  though  not  actually  begun. — On  the  other  hand, 
the  exposition  is  left  incomplete,  only  enough  being  given  to 
indicate  the  tenseness  of  the  situation,  whatever  it  be,  in  which 
the  two  chief  actors  find  themselves.  In  this  story,  the  post- 
ponement of  the  complete  exposition  is  one  of  the  means  of  pro- 
ducing suspense.  We  are  kept  wondering  about  the  reason  of 
all  this  suppressed  and  suffering  eagerness  until  we  reach  the 
fourth  movement  (pars,  49  ff.);  then  only  is  the  exposition  com- 
pleted by  revealing  the  generating  circumstance,  or  source  of 
conflict. 

22.  Second  movement  begins. 

23.  Bossu  (as  already  indicated  by  his  narrative)  is  accustomed 
to  dealing  with  men.  This  experience  now  shows  itself  (together 
with  a  touch  of  subterfuge)  in  the  question  he  puts  to  draw  out 
the  purpose  of  the  expedition. 

25.  St.  Mar's  answer  accomplishes  two  narrative  purposes — it 
increases  our  uncertainty  about  the  purpose  of  the  two  men,  and 
it  introduces  us  to  the  setting  of  the  main  events,  i.e.,  the  swamp. 

26.  Adds  to  our  knowledge  of  the  scene  of  action  by  conveying 
an  idea  of  the  size  and  desolateness  of  the  swamp,  and  further 


142  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

"  We  can  iiiake  it  bv  snn?et.  But  surely,  m'sieu,  you  do 
not  intend  to  Inmt  there  ?  At  this  season  the  marsh  is 
burnt  off  by  deer-hunters,  and  at  best  it  is  deserted. 
Upon  the  edge  of  the  swamp  there  is  naught  save  large 
game,  and  you  have  only  your  shotguns." 

27.  "  Just  the  same  we  will  try  it,"  replied  M'sieu  St. 
Mar,  and  with  that  he  returned  to  where  he  had  left  his 
companion  in  the  bow. 

28.  Thus,  m'sieu,  I  took  my  course,  and  as  I  went  I 
wondered  much.  As  I  have  said,  I  knew  from  the  first 
that  our  journey  was  not  to  be  made  in  the  interests  of 
game.  Also  I  had  thought  that  my  employers  were  in 
search  of  treasure. 

29.  But  now,  with  the  Pointe  Xoire  as  my  destina- 
tion, I  knew  not  what  to  think.  That  Lafitte  should  have 
buried  treasure  in  such  a  desolate,  inaccessible  place  with 
its  treacherous,  shifting  marsh  was  well  nigh  impossible. 
Also,  even  if  treasure  were  there,  my  employers  had 
brought  aboard  no  pick,  or  spade,  or  other  utensil  wuth 
which  to  unearth  it.  What  then  was  the  object  of  their 
expedition  ? 

30.  All  that  morning  the  two  held  their  place  in  the 
bow,  and  if  they  spoke  to  each  other  their  words  did  not 
reach  me.  At  noon,  when  I  lay  to  and  cooked  their  meal, 
their  silence  was  the  same.     It  was  the  dreadful,  breath- 


heightens  uncertainty  by  apparently  eliminating  hunting  as  the 
aim  of  the  party.  Pars.  28-29  further  increase  the  uncertainty 
by  removing  treasure  as  the  object. 

30.  Accelerated  movement;  passage  of  time  conveyed  in  con- 
densed statement.  Besides  the  intensification  of  mood  accom- 
plished, this  and  the  following  three  paragraphs  are  mainly  serv- 
iceable for  their  indication  of  lapse  of  time.  Observe  the  method 
— a  time  expression  in  the  first  sentence  of  30;  a  bit  of  amplified 


The  Love  of  Men  143 

less  silence  of  those  who  are  waiting  for  something — for 
something  that,  when  it  comes,  will  not  be  good  to  see.^ 

31.  Once  I  made  some  remark  about  the  prospects  for 
game  but  no  advantage  was  taken  of  mj  words.  M'sieu 
St.  Mar  glanced  hurriedly  away  toward  the  marsh  to  hide 
the  torture  in  his  eyes.  M'sieu  Prevost  muttered  some- 
thing in  his  throat  that  had  the  sound  of  "  Dieu." 

32.  As  for  myself,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  spoken  in  church ; 
and  when,  their  meal  finished,  the  two  departed  for  the 
bow  again,  I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

33.  That  was  a  journey  to  be  remembered,  m'sieu.  It 
was  like  one  of  those  terrible  dreams  in  which  one  is 
divided  between  the  desire  to  awake  and  the  wish  to  sleep 
on  and  know  the  end. 

34.  We  made  the  Pointe  Noire  at  sunset  and  stood  in 
toward  the  ruined  hut  upon  its  tip,  beneath  a  sky  that  was 
like  blood. 


episode  in  the  noon-day  incident;  and  the  suggestion  of  long- 
drawn-out  journey  in  par.  33.  On  the  plot  as  the  carrier  of  con- 
centrative  material,  see  S.  S.  M.,  107  ff. — ^  Why  is  the  indefinite 
expression  at  the  end  more  effective  than  some  positive  phrasing 
would  be  (e.g.,  will  be  awful,  horrible,  intolerable)? 

32-33.  Realization  of  mood  accomplished  by  indicating  the  ef- 
fect of  the  immediate  situation  on  an  observer.  Mood  is  the  main 
element  of  the  atmosphere  throughout  the  story;  i.e.,  emotional 
coloring;  S.   S.  M.,  25:4   (d)  ;  all  sec.  XI   (pp.  54ff.)   167:24. 

34-48.  The  third  movement  begins.  The  amount  of  action  in  it 
is  not  large,  but  is  important;  for  at  last  we  learn  what  the  two 
men,  purpose.  As  this  satisfies  our  interest  in  their  intention, 
the  suspense  would  slacken  unless  our  curiosity  were  directed  to 
new  questions.  This  is  accomplished  by  making  us  wonder  why 
they  should  plan  so  foolhardy  an  attempt  and  by  provoking  us 
to  wonder  whether  they  can  accomplish  their  aim. — Note  the 
frequency  in  all  fiction,  as  here,  with  which  suspense  depends 


144  Toivw's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

35.  All,  nrsieu,  that  was  a  place  to  suit  tlic  mood  of 
niv  oni]iloycrs.  There  was  no  beach,  no  marsh,  no  pjreen 
of  any  kind.  Only  the  rotten,  wave-eaten  bank,  with  its 
toppling  hut  and  its  litter  of  bones  and  shells.     Back  of 


mainly  on  conflict.  The  crossinfz;  of  the  swamp  will  be  a  ten-ific 
struggle  of  men  against  physical  conditions.  Note  further  of 
this  particular  story,  that  it  has  a  larger  number  of  conflicts 
than  is  common.  The  basic  conflict  is  that  of  the  love  between 
men  and  the  love  of  man  for  woman.  But  involved  in  the  moti- 
vating or  the  incident,  or  in  both,  are  also  the  conflict  between 
personal  desire  and  the  generous  unselfishness  of  friendship ; 
between  the  love  of  life  and  the  despair  of  happiness  that  will 
result  with  the  loss  of  the  woman;  the  struggle  of  mere  endur- 
ance, of  mental  and  spiritual  resolution,  until  the  trial  shall  be 
past  (see  pars.  18,  30-33,  etc.);  and  the  struggle  with  nature 
which  their  proposed  solution  of  the  spiritual  problem  requires. 
Ordinarily,  in  the  conte,  the  conflict  should  be  single,  simple,  and 
clean-cut;  the  novel  is  more  appropriate  for  recounting  the 
struggle  of  diverse  and  complicated  impulses  and  forces.  But 
in  this  story,  the  various  struggles  are  merely  asj^ects  or  conse- 
quences of  the  basic  conflict,  and  as  such  are  not  necessarily 
ojiposed  to  essential  unity.  Possibly,  however,  this  assertion 
should  be  modified.  The  physical  struggle  involved  in  crossing 
the  swamp  results  from  the  spiritual  conflict,  but,  on  account  of 
the  emphasis  necessary  to  make  us  realize  its  fierceness,  it  tends 
to  ovei-shadow  the  spiritual  conflict.  (This  is  because,  to  portray 
the  severity  of  the  physical  struggle,  great  material  realism  is 
necessai-y;  cf.  pars.  71-80,  92,  99.) — This  movement  is  largely 
expositional  and  coneentrative.  It  now  dwells  on  and  details 
what  pars.  25-26  introduced — the  swamp  as  the  setting  of  the 
action  that  is  to  come  (on  the  placing  of  this  part  of  the  descrip- 
tion, see  S.  S.  IM.,  165:21-22),  with  constant  emphasis  on  its 
terrors.  Attend  to  the  use  of  epithets  and  other  words  of  con- 
crete descriptive  fact.  Pick  out  the  passages  by  which  the 
atmospheric  tone  of  the  story  is  maintained;  cf.  note  on  pars. 
32-33  and  decide  if  realization  of  the  atmosphere  has  been  in- 
creased.   How? 

35.    Details  selected  with  reference  to  the  effect  to  be  produced; 
S.  S.  M.,  65 :  16. 


The  Love  of  Men  145 

the  point  the  burned-out  marsh  lay  black  and  lifeless,  its 
pools  and  sloughs  scummed  thick  with  ashes  until  they 
were  like  the  eyes  of  the  blind.  Upon  three  sides  this 
desolation  was  shut  in  by  the  gray  waters  of  the  bay,  while 
upon  its  fourth  the  great  cypress  swamp  lay  rusty-red 
across  the  horizon.  And  over  all  that  crimson  sky  burned 
slowly  out  like  some  beacon  of  disaster. 

36.  In  silence  we  landed,  in  silence  we  ate  our  evening 
meal,  and  then  when  I  felt  that  I  could  bear  no  more 
M'sieu  St.  Mar  spoke. 

37.  "  That  swamp  there  ?  "  he  began.  "  How  long 
would  it  take  one  to  pass  through  it  to  Anse  Le  Vert  ?  " 

38.  "  That  is  hard  to  say,  m'sieu,"  I  replied,  "  since 
few  care  even  to  try  its  edge.  One  man,  Jacques  Bernard, 
went  through  without  food  or  ammunition,  and  his  story 
will  be  told  while  the  last  tall  cypress  stands.  He  says 
that  he  was  inside  many  lifetimes,  although  he  expected 
but  two  days." 


36.  Observe  how  the  heavy,  oppressive  passage  of  time  is  sug- 
gested. 

38.  Few  actual  measurements  are  given  anywhere  in  the  story; 
the  size  of  the  swamp,  the  periods  of  time,  etc.,  are  suggested  or 
stated  indirectly.  How  long,  for  instance,  was  occupied  in  reach- 
ing Pointe  Noire,  and  how  is  this  period  indicated?  Even  here, 
the  extent  of  the  swamp  is  to  be  gathered  only  from  the  indirect 
suggestion  that  one  man  had  estimated  two  days  as  necessary  for 
traversing  it.  Observe  again  the  indication  of  its  great  difficulty 
— "  many  lifetimes."  Then  note  that  this  method  of  measuring 
is  much  more  impressive  than  that  of  stating  dimensions,  hours, 
and  the  like.  A  swamp  of  this  nature,  if  traversable  in  two  days, 
might  be  from  12  to  20  miles  across — scarcely  more.  Substitute 
now  the  mere  mileage,  and  make  the  paragraph  say,  "  May  be 
25,  may  be  30  miles."  At  once  much  of  sense  of  its  terror  is 
lost.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  miles  are  a  matter  of  indifference, 
for  what  is  to  be  measured  is  human  endurance  and  suffering. — 


14G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

39.  "  And  if  one  were  to  have  a  compass  and  ammuni- 
tion, what  then  ?  "  asked  M'sieu  Prevost,  speaking  to  me 
for  the  first  time  that  day. 

40.  "  Perhaps  it  would  be  the  same,  m'sieu,"  I  re- 
turned, "  There  are  still  the  poisons,  the  fevers,  and 
above  all  the  mosquitoes,  to  be  conquered.  You  cannot 
shoot  a  mosquito,  m'sieu,  yet  in  the  swamp  he  is 
death." 

41.  "  Yet  my  friend  and  I  are  going  through,"  said 
M'sieu  St.  Mar.  "  We  start  at  sunrise,  without  food,  but 
with  a  compass  and  gun.  You  will  go  back  and  meet  us 
at  the  narrow  neck  that  runs  out  near  Anse  Le  Vert." 

42.  For  a  while  I  was  silent  through  sheer  amazement. 
Then,  gathering  myself  together,  I  spoke  my  word. 

43.  "  M'sieu,"  said  I,  "  I  will  not  ask  you  if  you  are 
joking,  since  it  is  very  evident  that  you  are  not.  Also, 
as  your  affairs  are  your  owm,  I  will  not  ask  you  if  you 
arc  mad.  But  if  you  and  your  companion  are  going  to 
attempt  the  passage  of  that  swamp,  then  must  I  take  back 
some  story  to  the  mainland,  wherew^ith  to  account  for  your 
deaths.     I  am  waiting  for  the  story,  m'sieu." 

We  here  have  for  several  paragraphs  (combined  with  distributed 
expository  detail),  consequential  exposition  (S.  S.  M.,  171:4); 
on  distribution  of  detail,  S.  S.  M.,  80  :  4  ff . 

43.  One  difficulty  that  the  author  has  to  meet  in  presenting  this 
plot  is,  the  unusualness  of  its  theme  and  situation ;  he  has  to 
overcome  a  feeling  in  the  reader  of  its  improbability.  In  this 
paragi-aph  he  partly  removes  that  feeling  by  inserting  this  most 
natural  and  reasonable  demand  of  Bossu's.  Through  Bossu  he 
virtually  says,  "  This  certainly  is  a  strange  thing.  I  can  see 
you  are  in  earnest,  but  frankly  the  ordinary  man  will  find  it 
hard  to  understand."  In  law  this  would  be  a  "  plea  in  confes- 
sion and  avoidance,"  acknowledging  an  allegation  but  presenting 
an  explanation  that  justifies  the  matter  complained  of.  In  par. 
48,  the  author,  still  through  Bossu,  reinforces  his  justification. 


The  Love  of  Men  147 

44.  At  this  M'sieu  St.  Mar  smote  his  palms  together 
like  one  who  is  well  satisfied. 

45.  "  Good,"  said  he.  "  I  knew  that  we  would  not  be 
disappointed  in  you,  Le  Bossu." 

46.  M'sieu  Prevost  nodded,  and  for  a  moment  his  hand 
lay  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  other. 

47.  "  Yes,"  he  agreed.  "  Let  us  tell  him  all.  It  is 
his  due." 

48.  And  so  they  told  me;  and,  as  they  did  so,  all  the 
pent-up  thoughts  and  words  of  that  day  burst  forth  in  a 
torrent  of  speech.  Also,  strange  though  it  may  seem,  I 
think  that  I  understood.  At  least  I  grasped  their  idea, 
which  was  more  than  many  would  have  done.  Perhaps, 
in  my  poor  words,  you  will  find  it  hard  yourself,  m'sieu ; 
but  had  you  been  there  to  hear  them,  you  would  have 
known. 

49.  They  had  been  friends  since  childhood — the  sort 
of  friends  that  are  closer  than  brothers.  Living  side  by 
side  in  the  city,  sharing  their  pleasures,  their  griefs,  even 

49.  Fourth  movement  begins. — Up  to  par.  57,  it  consists  of 
exposition.  Here  we  find  an  instance  of  massed  exposition,  post- 
poned until  the  story  is  half  told ;  S.  S.  M.,  79-85.  This  reveals 
to  us  the  fact  that  (putting  the  artificial  beginning  aside,  as 
irrelevant)  the  opening  of  the  narrative  plunged  us  into  action 
that  represented  the  crisis  already  well  advanced  (S.  S.  M., 
122-151,  especially  122-126 ;  127 :  9 ;  135 :  138) .  See  also  S.S.  M., 
153 : 4-6.  Here  review  pars.  6-21,  as  the  real  opening.  Read 
S.  S.  M.,  127:  9-11  and  140 :  7-8,  and  consider  whether  this  open- 
ing strikes  the  keynote,  or  whether  we  catch  the  mood  of  the 
story  only  as  we  pass  further;  and  whether  the  opening  is  strong 
in  the  elements  of  suspense.  Finally,  ask  whether  pars.  1-5 
justify  themselves  by  affording  a  hint  of  the  setting  wherein 
the  action  will  work  itself  out. — On  the  tendency  of  the  conte. 
tQ  deal  with  the  crisis  only  at  its  height,  see  S.  S.  M.,  15-18» 


148  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

their  youthful  possessions,  they  had,  at  the  age  of  man- 
hood, become  inseparable.  Together  they  had  entered 
business,  together  they  had  taken  their  leisure,  spending 
long  days  in  the  wild  in  that  close  companionship  which  is 
born  only  of  the  tent  and  blanket. 

50.  And  then,  m'sicu,  a  woman  came  along — a  woman 
with  whom  both  fell  in  love.  There  was  no  jealousy,  no 
bitterness,  none  of  those  dark  things  which  are  said  also 
to  be  fair  in  war.  Each  loved  deeply,  each  felt  for  the 
other,    each   offered    unsuccessfully   to    sacrifice   himself. 

51.  Then  there  was  nothing  to  do. 

52.  Ah,  m'sieu,  can  you  not  see  it  ?  They  could  not 
fight,  since  there  was  no  anger.  They  could  not  forego 
their  chances,  since  both  were  firm  in  refusal.  The  friend- 
ship of  each  became  even  stronger,  nourished  by  the 
thought  of  the  other's  pain.  Yet  ever  in  their  hearts  was 
a  torment  of  hopeless  love  that  gnawed  unceasingly,  driv- 
ing them  to  despair.  ' 

53.  And  then,  when  all  was  at  its  worst,  there  came  to 
them  the  story  of  Jacques  Bernard.  Perhaps  you  have 
heard  it,  m'sieu,  of  how  Bernard,  marooned  upon  the 
Pointe  ISToire,  set  forth  through  the  swamp  without  food 
or  ammunition  to  save  his  wife  from  the  fever  at  Anse 
Le  Vert. 

54.  The  friends  listened  to  the  story,  and  when  they 
had  thought  over  it  there  came  to  them  an  idea.  Bernard 
had  faced  the  swamp  through  love  of  a  woman.  Why 
should  they  not  do  the  same  ?  Both  were  young,  both  were 
experienced,  the  chances  would  be  equal. 

55.  If  they  started  without  food  from  different  points, 

50.  Generating  circumstance  and  initial  response;  S.  S.  M., 
74 :  A ;  85 : 1-3 ;  154 :  7  (italics) . 


The  Love  of  Men  149 

the  god  of  Luck  would  decide  the  matter,  sending  the  rare 
game  of  that  desolate  place  to  the  fortunate  one.  From 
what  they  had  heard  it  was  inconceivable  that  both  should 
win  through.  Therefore,  he  who  was  favored  would  have 
all  clear  before  him.  If  both  remained  inside,  it  would 
still  be  as  good  a  method  as  any  of  settling  their  difficulty. 

56.  Perhaps  they  were  mad,  m'sieu,  but  what  could  I 
do  ?  That  they  were  weary  of  their  lot  beyond  argument 
was  proven  to  me  before  I  had  uttered  a  dozen  words. 

57.  "  Bien,"  said  I.  "  Your  blood  be  upon  your  own 
heads !  I  will  wait  for  you  as  you  ask,  but  you  must  give 
me  a  paper  explaining  your  disappearance.  They  would 
laugh  at  your  story  at  Anse  Le  Vert." 

58.  "  And  how  long  will  you  wait  for  us  ?  "  asked 
M'sieu  Prevost  while  M'sieu  St.  Mar  wrote  the  paper. 

59.  "  A  week,"  I  replied.  "  If  you  are  not  out  by 
then,  you  will  never  be." 

60.  That  night  we  slept  in  the  hut  and,  when  I 
awakened  my  employers  at  sunrise,  they  went  about  their 
preparations  briskly.^  Each  took  a  gun,  some  shells,  a 
compass,  blankets,  and  many  matches.  Also  each  drew 
for  position,  M'sieu  St.  Mar  taking  the  bay,  or  outer  side, 
M'sieu  Prevost  the  one  that  was  lost  in  the  burnt-out 
marsh.  Then,  when  all  was  ready,  I  gave  them  my  final 
advice. 

61.  "  Choose  always   high  ground   for   camping,   and 

57.    Repetition  of  consequential  exposition, 

60.  '  This  one  word  portrays  the  change  in  temporary  mood 
natural  to  the  immediate  situation,  when  the  tedious  waiting  time 
was  past  and  action  was  at  hand;  compare  the  feeling  of  soldiers 
while  waiting  to  go  into  battle  with  their  relief  when  the  charge 
is  ordered. — The  rest  of  the  paragraph,  like  some  others,  consists 
of  details  introduced  mainly  for  realistic  verisimilitude. 


150  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

sleep  with  your  head  in  the  smoke  of  your  smudge,"  I 
told  them.  "  Also,  seek  no  trail.  Bear  ever  east  and,  if 
you  live,  you  will  arrive." 

62.  At  parting  they  shook  hands  in  silence,  despite  the 
look  in  their  eyes.  Ah,  m'sieu,  who  could  describe  that 
look,  its  weariness,  its  hope — its  pain.  It  was  as  if  each 
were  saying  to  the  other — ^'  pray  God  you  win,"  and  to 
himself — "  may  I  stay  inside." 

63.  Yet  I  knew  that  each  would  strive  to  the  bitter  end 
through  that  scorn  of  death  which  alone  had  kept  them 
both  alive. 

64.  After  they  had  gone  I  stood  and  watched  them ; 
and  as  they  disappeared  into  the  black  desert  that  sepa- 
rated them  from  their  goal,  a  vague,  moving  cloud  formed 
slowly  above  the  head  of  each.  The  wind  blew  stale  ^  and 
warm  from  an  empty  ^  sky,  and  on  it  many  other  little 
clouds  drifted  silently  in  toward  the  swamp. 

65.  Thus  I  left  the  two,  already  in  the  grip  of  their 
enemies,  while  from  far  and  near  above  that  dreadful 
wilderness  the  tiny  whining  pests  gathered  together  to 
seek  the  feast  that  was  prepared  for  them. 

66.  And  so  I  returned  whence  I  had  come,  m'sieu,  and 
went  up  through  the  marsh  to  that  narrow  neck  which  the 


62.    Once  more  a  natural  shift  of  temporary  mood. 

64-66.  The  movement  is  made  to  close  with  a  return  to  the 
dominant  mood  of  the  story  as  a  whole,  conveyed  in  mention  of 
realistic  details  that  form  part  of  the  immediate  setting  and  belong 
from  this  time  on  to  the  situation.  S.  S.  M.,  165-107  may  be  con- 
sulted.— '  Note  the  effectiveness  of  these  words,  and  of  the 
other  epithets  and  descriptive  adjectives  in  the  two  paragraphs. 

66.  Fifth  movement  begins. — On  the  passage  over  from  one 
stage  to  another,  see  S.  S.  M.,  151 : 1 ;  107,  note. 


The  Love  of  Men  151 

swamp  thrusts  out  near  Anse  Le  Vert.  Four  days  I 
waited  on  my  boat,  and  upon  the  fifth  I  took  medicines 
and  supplies,  and  made  my  way  inside. 

67.  Perhaps  I  was  mad  to  attempt  it,  yet  there  was 
that  within  me  which  drove  me  on.  Indeed,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  sheer  uselessness  of  it,  I  would  have  gone 
upon  the  first  day. 

08.  You  do  not  know,  m'sieu.  Those  four  days  of 
waiting  were  a  torture.  All  through  them  I  sat  upon  the 
deck  of  my  boat,  gazing  out  at  the  rusty,  prison-like  walls 
of  the  swamp  and  thinking  of  what  must  be  going  on  in- 
side. All  through  them  I  came  each  moment  to  know  bet- 
ter that  dreadful  suspense  which  had  sealed  the  lips  of 
my  employers. 

69.  "  No,"  I  said  to  myself  on  that  fifth  day.  "  I  can 
stand  no  more.  If  they  are  alive,  they  must  by  now  be 
near  the  neck.  I  will  go  in  one  day's  journey  and  meet 
them." 

70.  Now  you,  m'sieu,  who  have  hunted  much,  have 
known  times  of  hardship.  I,  who  have  hunted  more,  have 
known  them  also.  Yet  if  all  those  times  were  rolled  into 
one  it  would  not  be  as  an  hour  of  that  journey  of  mine. 

71.  True,  I  had  known  swamps,  having  entered  them 
often,  but  never  had  I  known  that  there  could  be  the  like 
of  that  one  near  Anse  Le  Vert.  Underfoot  was  the  black, 
oily  water,  foul  with  decay,  dotted  with  innumerable  shiny 

67-69.  Is  his  decision  motivated  with  sufficient  clearness?  Is  it 
convincing?  If  so,  would  you  regard  the  paragraphs  as  an  effec- 
tive characterization  of  Bossu?  Do  they  support  the  criticism 
made  in  introductory  note  No.  4?  Can  you  find  any  passages  in 
which  either  St.  Mar  or  Prevost  is  characterized  as  adequately? 

71-72.  Study  the  selection  of  details  to  fit  the  intended  effect, 
comparing  pars.  35,  64-65,  the  note  on  35  and  the  closing  part  of 


152  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

cypress-knees  that  tripped  the  foot  at  every  stride.  Over- 
head was  the  dense,  rusty  canopy  of  leaf  and  branch, 
blotting  out  the  clean  blue  of  heaven,  strangling  the  very 
air  itself  that  sought  to  cleanse  the  poisons  and  vapors 
below.  And  between,  the  trees  grew^  thick  and  close,  shut- 
ting in  the  view  on  every  side,  each  of  them  fluted,  each 
of  them  tapering,  until  the  mind  grew  sick  with  their 
monotony. 

72.  Of  life  there  was  naught  save  the  snakes  and  tur- 
tles that  dropped  from  their  logs  with  a  single,  thump- 
ing splash.  Of  sound  there  was  only  the  ceaseless  whine 
of  the  mosquitoes  that  bit  and  stabbed  with  their  tiny, 
poisoned  bills. 

73.  It  was  terrible,  m'sieu.  It  was  like  the  dark, 
empty  shell  of  a  world  in  which  all  was  dead  save  suffering 
and  despair.  That  afternoon,  when  I  could  go  no  farther, 
I  built  my  smudge  upon  a  knoll,  and  there  I  lay  half  con- 
scious amid  the  droning,  whirling  swarm  of  my  tor- 
mentors. 

74.  But  if  that  first  day  had  been  hard,  the  second  was 
harder  still,  for  I  w^as  bruised  by  a  hundred  falls,  and 
already  the  poison  was  beginning  to  run  in  my  veins.  Yet 
that  which  was  within  me  drove  me  ever  forward,  and  so 
I  went  on,  stumbling,  tripping,  calling  aloud,  until  once 
more,  near  sunset,  I  made  my  camp  upon  a  knoll.  This 
time  I  drank  deep  of  the  brandy  that  I  carried,  and  while 
it  burned  I  took  my  reason  in  both  hands. 


that  on  34.  All  these  paragraphs  present  local  color  in  the  set- 
ting.— Note  how  the  description  retards  the  movement  and  thus 
creates  the  illusion  of  the  passage  of  time. 

73.    Observe  the  climactic  effect  as  the  description  passes  from 
realistic  particulars  to  figurative  expression. 


The  Love  of  Men  153 

75.  "You  have  done  enough,  Bossu,"  I  told  myself. 
"  Already  you  have  gone  too  far.  The  two  are  lost  beyond 
doubt.     In  the  morning  you  will  return." 

76.  Then,  even  as  I  made  this  decision,  there  came 
from  afar  a  faint  sound  of  splashing.  Nearer  it  grew, 
while  I  ran  forward  shouting,  and  then,  through  one  of 
the  innumerable  alleys  of  the  tree-trunks,  I  saw  the  figure 
of  a  man. 

77.  Slowly  he  came,  staggering  and  falling,  and  by  the 
rags  of  his  clothes  I  knew  that  it  was  M'sieu  St.  Mar. 
His  face  was  swollen  beyond  recognition,  his  eyes  were 
all  but  closed.  Erom  the  puff  of  his  lips  there  came  an 
endless  babble  of  words,  and  each  time  that  he  fell  he 
screamed  aloud.  His  gun  was  gone,  also  his  blankets,  but 
in  one  hand  he  still  clutched  the  charred  and  mangled 
fragments  of  a  turtle. 

78.  "  M'sieu !  "  I  cried,  and  for  an  instant  reason 
flashed  into  his  brain. 

79.  "  Bossu !  "  he  gasped.     "  Thank  God." 

80.  Then  he  fell  once  more  and,  as  he  screamed,  I 
caught  the  sound  of  a  name  that  was  Prevost. 

81.  After  that  it  was  work,  with  food,  with  brandy 

75.  From  par.  66  to  par.  75  resistant  delay  is  strong  (S.  S.  M., 
155,  italics.  Note  the  difference  between  this  and  anticipatory 
delay,  explained  in  S.  S.  M.,  p.  74,  note.) 

76.  The  coming  of  the  height  of  the  climax  is  sudden ;  hence 
there  is  something  of  the  effect  of  surprise. — The  unpleasant 
realistic  detail  of  several  of  the  succeeding  paragraphs  suggests 
consideration  of  the  question,  how  far  may  realism  go  in  pre- 
senting what  is  painful  or  horrible?  Does  the  present  story  cross 
the  line?    How  much  farther  could  it  go  without  doing  so? 

81.  Last  sentence:  here  we  have  the  first  indication  of  the  out- 
come— St.  Mar's  first  thought  is  not  of  the  woman,  but  of  Prevost. 
It  is  indicated  fully  in  par.  88,  and  repeated  with  reference  to 


154  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

and  with  quinine,  until  near  the  break  of  dawn  M'sieu  St. 
^lar  spoke  with  reason  again.  Also,  as  had  been  the  case 
whenever  the  sharp  points  of  the  cypress-knees  had  driven 
the  spark  of  consciousness  into  his  brain,  his  first  word 
was  Prcvost. 

82.  "  You  have  found  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

83.  "  No,"  I  replied.  "  Xor  will  I  ever  do  so.  You 
have  won,  m'sieu." 

84.  But  M'sieu  St.  Mar  staggered  to  his  feet  in  a  sud- 
den outburst,  half  delirium,  half  fury. 

85.  "  Then  go  to  him  while  I  crawl  behind,"  he  cried. 
"  Or  I  will  crawl  in  front,  if  you  have  no  courage  in  your 
soul." 

86.  "  Bien,  m'sieu,"  said  I  as  quietly  as  I  could. 
"  But  you  must  first  regain  some  strength.  I  am  only 
doing  the  best  that  I  can." 


Prevost  in  par.  100.  This  raises  the  question,  where  came  the 
decisive  moment?  So  far  as  the  spiritual  outcome  (the  impor- 
tant thing  in  this  story)  is  concerned,  the  decisive  moment  came 
some  time  while  the  two  men  were  struggling  through  the  swamp 
(pars.  88,  100).  But  because  (owing  to  the  angle  of  narration 
adopted)  we  know  nothing  of  this  struggle  except  its  outcome, 
we  have  here  a  story  not  only  without  any  decisive  moment  in 
the  action,  but  also  without  any  presentation  of  the  most  impor- 
tant period  of  the  action  itself — the  emotional  part  that  gave 
the  two  their  clear  vision.  Although  we  called  pars.  66-75  a  pas- 
sage that  functions  as  resistant  delay,  this  is  true  only  of  the 
physical  (or  objective),  not  of  the  spiritual  outcome.  For  while 
Bossu  waited  and  searched  and  the  two  men  toiled  through  the 
swamp,  the  subjective  action  that  brings  the  spiritual  outcome 
is  also  going  on — in  the  emotions  of  St.  Mar  and  Prevost.  Struc- 
turally, therefore,  this  story  is  exceptional — all  accounted  for  by 
the  angle  of  narration.  (So  far  as  the  mere  objective  or  phys- 
ical outcome  is  concerned — that  is,  the  bringing  out  of  the  men 
alive — the  decisive  moment  may  perhaps  be  regarded  as  that 
when  Bossu  determined  to  go  into  the  swamp  after  them.) 


The  Love  of  Men  155 

87.  At  this  he  lay  back  willingly  enough,  and  as  he  did 
so  his  hand  sought  mine.  Then  he  began  to  speak,  slowly, 
with  long  pauses  between  his  words. 

88.  "  Forgive  me,  Jean,"  said  he,  "  I  know  that  you 
— will  understand.  Also,  while  my  mind  is  clear,  you 
must  understand  something  else.  You  say  that  I  have — 
won?  I  tell  you  that  I  have  lost  all — the  greater  love. 
We  were  mad,  Jean.  We  did  not  know.  The  swamp  has 
taught  me — among  other  things.  The  woman-love  was 
but  one  of  months.     Ours  was  from  the  beginning." 

89.  He  lay  a  long  time  silent,  and  by  the  gray  light  of 
dawn  I  could  see  the  shine  of  tears  in  his  terrible  eyes. 

90.  "  Prevost !  "  he  murmured.  "  My  poor  Prevost. 
We  had  gone  through  life  hand  in  hand." 

91.  "  As  you  will  do  again,  if  God  is  willing,  m'sieu," 
I  encouraged  him.  "  Come,  we  must  lay  our  plans.  You 
have  seen  him — inside  ?  " 

92.  "  A  million  times  in  my  delirium,"  replied  M'sieu 
St.  Mar.  "  Once  at  a  moment  when  my  mind  was  clear. 
It  was  this  morning,  and  he  was  bearing  north.  Like 
myself  he  had  lost  his  gun.  I  called  to  him — I  waved  my 
food — but  he  was  worse  than  I,  and  could  not  hear.  Then 
I  fell,  and  when  I  got  to  my  feet  again  he  had  disappeared. 
I  was  following  him  when  you  came  along." 

93.  I  shook  my  head. 

94.  "  You  were  bearing  east,  the  direction  that  was 
stamped  upon  your  brain,  m'sieu,"  said  I.  "  Otherwise 
I  would  not  have  found  you.  But  your  words  are  en- 
couraging. At  noon,  if  you  are  able,  we  will  bear  north 
until  nightfall.  Then,  if  we  would  live,  we  must  turn 
back.     Better  the  one  to  die  than  all." 

95.  But  M'sieu  St.  Mar  made  a  movement  of  refusal. 


15G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

9G.  '*  Bettor  for  you,  Jean,  yes,  but  not  for  me,"  he 
replied.     '*  I  will  go  on  until  the  end." 

97.  We  left  at  noon,  and  how  M'sieu  St.  Mar  forced 
his  tortured,  exhausted  body  into  the  effort,  I  cannot  say. 
Gasping,  swaying,  fighting  hard  his  fever  and  his  mad- 
ness, he  staggered  along  beside  me,  and  as  he  went  my 
own  poor  sufferings  were  forgotten  in  the  greatness  of  his 
soul. 

98.  "  Dieu!"  I  said  to  myself.  "  It  is  your  end  also, 
Bossu.  Our  search  is  useless,  and  tomorrow  you  will  never 
leave  him." 

99.  But  God  was  good,  and  we  found  Prevost  not  three 
hours'  journey  from  our  knoll.  He  lay  with  his  head  in 
the  hollow  of  a  tree-trunk,  a  poor,  tattered  rag  of  a  man 
who,  having  done  all,  could  do  no  more.  Speechless  he 
was,  and  with  tight-closed  eyes,  yet  at  the  cry  of  his  com- 
panion he  staggered  forward  holding  out  both  arms. 

100.  Thus  they  met  and,  in  that  gesture  of  M'sieu 
Prevost,  I  knew  that  he  also  had  learned  a  lesson  of  the 
swamp. 

101.  And  then  we  came  out,  m'sieu.  It  took  four 
days,  and  it  was  very  hard.  Perhaps  another  could  de- 
scribe it.  I  cannot.  There  are  some  things  of  which  one 
is  unable  to  tell. 


98.  See  S.  S.  M.,  74,  note.  Considering  only  what  we  have 
called  the  objective  action,  or  physical  struggle  of  the  men  to  win 
through  the  swamp,  where  does  the  anticipatory  delay  begin? 
What  paragraph  marks  the  point  of  final  suspense?  Are  there 
other  points  of  similar  suspense  in  it?     In  what  paragraphs? 

101.  The  separate  ending  begins.  Is  it  indispensable  (S.  S.  M., 
169: 1,  2,  3)  ?  Is  it  less  open  to  objection  than  was  the  separate 
opening? 


The  Love  of  Men  157 

102.  Afterward  we  regained  our  strength  at  Anse  Le 
Vert,  and  when  the  two  departed  it  was  in  that  peace 
which  had  made  the  happiness  of  their  younger  days. 
Many  gifts  they  gave  me,  but  most  precious  of  all  was  the 
memory  that  they  left  behind. 

103,  Ah,  m'sieu,  it  means  much  to  me — the  little, 
twisted  Bossu  who  is  without  a  mate.  Often,  when  all 
have  gathered  about  the  fire,  I  hear  the  others  speak  of 
that  love  of  woman  which  I  have  never  known.  It  is  then 
that  I  smile  to  myself,  who  alone  have  seen  that  greater, 
rarer  love  of  men. 


103.  Is  the  introduction  of  the  title  in  the  closing  words  espe- 
cially effective,  or  is  it  artificial'?  Assume  that  par.  100  closes  the 
ptory,  and  compare  the  effect. 


ISTEKVE 

The  Stoky  as  a  Whole 

1.  An  excellent  example  of  the  "  pure  theme  "  story 
(S.  S.  M.,  26-36,  especially  31 :  14-15)  ;  should  be  compared 
with  '"  The  Unknown,"  "  The  Last  Eose  of  Summer," 
"  In  the  Matter  of  Distance,"  "  A  Quiet  Life,"  "  The 
Love  of  Men,"  "  The  Song,"  "  The  Defective,"  "  Miss 
Mitty  and  the  Ages  Hence,"  "  The  Opal  Morning,"  and 
"  The  Great  God,"  in  noting  different  ways  in  which 
themes  may  support  the  story  and  be  presented. 

2.  Its  opening  is  in  the  nature  of  a  philosophical  pre- 
lude, the  particular  usefulness  of  which  here  is  to  em- 
phasize the  theme  (S.  S.  M.,  122-150).  But  it  also  strikes 
the  keynote,  or  prepares  us  in  mood  for  the  scene,  persons 
and  action  of  the  story  proper — its  atmosphere — by  bring- 
ing us  into  its  own  setting  of  outlying,  semi-outlaw  set- 
tlement. Cf.  especially  S.  S.  M.,  125:6;  127:10-11; 
132 :  16 ;  135  :  21 ;  136-140 ;  147,  note  11 ;  and  see  S.  S.  M., 
33:18. 

3.  It  is  based  in  part  on  delicate  motivation,  making 
necessary  a  rather  intricate  machinery  of  fact  in  order  to 
create  the  situation  necessary  for  the  central  plot  action. 
See  the  running  explanation,  par.  43. 

4.  It  helps  us  to  realize  how  fiction,  as  an  interpreter 
of  life,  always  goes  back  to  and  founds  itself  upon  human 
nature  and  its  manifestations  in  individual  and  social 
standards.     See  the  comment  on  par.  75. 

5.  Is  a  story  in  which  the  carrying-plot  and  its  devel- 

158 


Nerve  159 

opment  occupies  less  space  than  is  commonly  the  case,  in 
proportion  to  the  length  of  the  story  as  a  whole.  The  de- 
velojDment  of  the  dramatic  plot  (excluding  expositional 
matter)  begins  only  with  par.  42.  Sufficient  explanatory 
comment  will  be  found  in  the  running  notes. 


NEKVE 

By  William  Slavins 

Reprinted  from  "  Collier's  Weekly  "  for  September  20,  1913,  by 

Permission. 

(Copyrighted,  1913) 

1.  The  wind  and  sleet  of  a  December  storm  had  ren- 
dered navigation  in  the  plank  street  of  the  little  town  hud- 
dled at  the  foot  of  the  Coast  Range  of  the  ISTorthern  British 
Columbia  Mountains  well  nigh  impossible  and  had  evi- 
dently driven  all  the  "  fine  ones  "  to  the  shelter  of  their 
own  shacks,  for  the  "  Poker  Parlor  "  was  deserted,  with 
the  exception  of  three  old-timers  and  myself,  who  sat 
around  the  cannon  stove,  listening  to  the  storm  devils  howl, 
cursing  the  country  and  profanely  assuring  each  other 
that  any  man  who  was  fool  enough  to  get  caught  in  such 
a  country  in  the  winter  time  deserved  all  the  hardship  he 
underwent  and  not  a  bit  of  sympathy ! 

2.  The  old-timers  grew  reminiscent  as  the  hour  grew 
late,  and  the  talk  drifted  around  to  the  early  days  on  the 
Western  plains. 

3.  At  the  mention  of  some  old  plainsman's  name,  Dick 


1-2.  By  putting  us  into  sympathy  with  the  atmosphere  of  the 
prelude-situation,  prepares  us  for  the  atmosphere  of  the  stoi-y 
itself.  Note  the  tran.sition  to  immediate  narration;  so  that  the 
prelude,  though  mainly  discussion,  yet  gets  over  as  consisting  of 
active  incident   (cf.  Sl  S.  M.,  140:7-8). 

3.  The  characterizing  detail,  like  the  employment  of  narration, 
is  a  means  to  procuring  interested  attention  to  the  philosophical 

160 


Nerve  161 

Hesler,  idly  playing  solitaire,  threw  down  the  deck  with 
a  snort  of  disgust  and  spoke  his  mind. 

4.  "  Him  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  knew  him  !  Winterea  in 
Red  Lodge,  Mont.,  with  him  one  year.  See  him  die  there, 
and  I  never  felt  better  over  seein'  a  man  go  out  in  my  life ! 
Him?  Bah!  He  had  a  yellow  streak  in  him  a  yard 
wide !  " 

5.  "  Ye-e-e-s,"  said  old  Charley  IsTelson,  the  spectacled, 
grandfatherly,  benevolent-looking  old  fellow  with  a  repu- 
tation as  a  gun  fighter  and  all-round  "  bad  man "  that 
kept  him  immune  from  annoyance  in  the  toughest  of 
camps.  "  Ye-e-e-s,  I've  heard  that ;  an'  f ar's  that  goes  I 
make  him  take  water  once  myself  in  a  little  argument  we 
has  over  a  card,  nine  turns  in  a  stud  game,  that  fills  up  a 
flush  for  me  an'  lops  a  big  pot. 

6.  "  Him  an'  me  disagree  about  the  part  o'  the  deck 
this  card  comes  from,  but  I  bring  him  to  see  the  light  all 
fine  and  proper,  an'  he's  got  a  good  shave  on  me  at  that, 
'cause  his  hand's  on  his  gun  when  the  pow-wow  starts, 
whereas  mine's  on  the  table  an'  my  gal's  in  the  check 
drawer,  so  if  he's  game  to  finish  his  play,  it's  a  dirty, 
mortal  cinch  he  beats  me  to  it.     However 

7.  "  An'  then  again  I've  seen  him  go  all  the  way 
thro'  on  a  deal  where  he  had  the  worst  of  it !  He  seemed 
to  be  kind  o'  flippety-flop  somehow.  Sometimes  he  shows 
clean  game,  an'  others  he  quits  cold !  " 

8.  "  An'  nothin'  to  it !  "  said  Dick  contemptuously. 
"  Ef  a  man's  game  he's  game,  an'  that's  all  there  is  to  it ! 


prehide.  Observe  similar  instances  in  the  rest  of  the  prekide, 
inchiding  the  paragraphs  of  condensed  episode  with  which  the 
old-timers  illustrate  their  discussion. 


1G2  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Ef.  he  ain't  game  he's  a  dirty  quitter,  an'  that's  the  answer 
to  that !  There  ain't  no  halfway  stuff  about  this  nervy 
thing.     A  man  is  or  he  ain't,  an'  he  wasn't !  " 

9.  "•  That's  what  they  most  all  say,"  replied  Charley, 
"  but  I  dunno !  It's  an  awful  queer  thing,  this  matter  o' 
nerve.  Now,  take  you,  for  example.  Anybody  that 
knows  you  at  all  knows  that  you'd  go  all  the  way  thro' 
any  time  it  comes  to  a  show-down." 

10.  "  Why,  most  certainly,  I  would,"  said  Dick. 
"  Why  not  ?  That's  all  nonsense,  this  stuff  about  bein' 
w^orried  about  goin'  out!  You  got  to  go  some  time,  ain't 
you  ?  You  know  that  much !  It  makes  a  hell  of  a  lot  of 
difference  whether  you  go  today  or  tomorrow  or  the  day 
after ;  don't  it  ?  Yes,  it  don't !  Why,  a  man  that  ain't 
game  to  go  when  it's  put  up  to  him  is  a  fool !  " 

11.  "  Yes,"  said  Charley,  "  same  way  with  me.  I'll 
go  with  any  man  any  time  he  says  he's  ready.  But  sup- 
pose now  that  a  feller  gets  tangled  up  with  me,  say,  or 
you  an'  this  feller's  got  one  o'  them  kind  o'  women  that's 
the  real  dope,  an'  he's  thinkin'  a  heap  o'  her,  an'  maybe 
got  a  kid  or  so  that  he's  lookin'  out  for  an'  watchin'  grow 
up — has  he  got  an  even  break  with  us  when  it  comes  to 
the  touch?  Ain't  he  got  the  shoot  end  of  it?  Mos'  cer- 
tainly!    He's  got  somethin'  to  stay  for;  we  ain't.     An'  if 


10.  The  most  striking  of  several  paragraphs  in  which  the  old- 
timers  discuss  categories  into  which  men  can  be  separated  accord- 
ing to  their  character  in  the  matter  of  nerve.  Dick's  exposition 
is  so  impulsively  sincere  as  to  stand  for  the  feeling  of  the  type 
of  the  frontiersman  and  mining  pioneer.  This  emotional  atti- 
tude, be  it  observed,  is  altogether  different  from  that  of  the  hero 
of  the  story  proper;  hence  Dick's  exposition  is  an  effective 
exposition,  by  contrast,  of  the  character-quality  of  the  hero,  which, 
in  turn,  is  indispensable  to  the  establishment  of  the  theme. 


Nerve  163 

he  sticks  for  the  big  jump  with  a  gee  like  me,  say,  he's 
either  a  whole  sight  gamer  than  I  am,  or  else  he's  a  fool, 
whichever  way  you  look  at  it. 

12.  "  Now,  some  men  is  game — that  is,  they'll  stick 
for  the  big  show,  'cause  they're  proudlike  an'  they're  a 
damn  sight  scarder  o'  what  folks'll  say  about  'em  if  they 
don't  toe  the  mark  than  they  are  o'  crossin'  over. 

13.  "  Some  men  is  game  'cause  they  ain't  got  no  sense ! 
They  don't  savvy  nothin' !  They're  just  like  a  bull  try  in' 
to  butt  an  express  train,  an'  once  you  can  orate  vivid 
enough  to  make  one  o'  them  thick-headed  wallopers  under- 
stand that,  he's  sure  due  to  get  his  if  he  follows  out  his 
play.  He'll  wilt  quicker'n  a  tallow  candle  in  hell ! 
Others  is  game  'cause  they're  more  or  less  hot-bloodedlike. 
They  go  plumb  crazy  as  soon's  ever  anythin'  starts,  an' 
then  they  don't  know  nothin'  more  till  it's  all  over !  An' 
them  kind  can't  help  it,  no  more'n  a  keg  o'  powder 
could  help  blowin'  up  if  you  was  to  drop  a  match 
into  it. 

14.  "  Men  is  built  different,  an'  what's  dead  easy  for 
one  is  awful  hard  for  another.  Take  a  reckless  devil  of 
a  cowpunch,  that'll  ride  anythin'  that  wears  hair,  an'  put 
it  up  to  him  to  go  into  a  church  and  preach  a  sermon. 
You  couldn't  see  him  for  the  dust  he'd  raise  gettin'  out  o' 
town!  Same  way,  put  one  o'  these  preacher  fellows  up 
against  a  bad  bronc ;  he  puts  his  trust  in  the  Lord,  but  this 

14.  The  philosophical  prelude  ends.  The  theme  is  precisely 
gathered  into  words  in  the  last  sentence  of  this  paragraph.  Note 
how  smoothly  the  transition  is  made  into  the  story  proper.  The 
story  itself  might  begin  with  par.  15,  and  be  complete  so  far  as 
plot  and  action  are  concerned ;  but  it  would  lose  something  in  the 
distinct  emphasis  of  its  theme  and  perhaps  a  little  in  atmosphere 
effect. 


164  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

bronc  don't  look  to  him  as  if  the  Almighty  had  an  awful 
lot  o'  influence  on  his  manner  o'  life,  so  Mr.  Preacher  he 
prob'ly  fans  up  a  nice  little  breeze,  same  as  the  cowpunch ! 
To  my  way  o'  thinkin',  a  man  shows  clean  game  when  he 
does  the  thing  that's  hardest  for  him,  whereas  the  same 
thing  might  be  just  like  eatin'  a  meal  to  me. 

15.  "  Summer  o'  19 —  I'm  gamblin'  on  the  boats  on 
the  Yukon,  an'  I  go  outside  an'  make  one  trip  to  Seattle 
an'  back.  On  the  run  north  they's  the  average  crowd 
aboard:  old-timers  that's  got  rid  of  their  stake  below 
an  was  headin'  back,  quite  a  bunch  o'  husky  young 
'  chuckakos  '  [Indian  for  "  newcomer  "]  makin'  for  Daw- 
son, an'  a  few  tourists  just  takin'  the  round  trip  to  Skag- 
way  an'  back  on  the  boat ;  an'  one  young  maverick  that's 
so  dog-gone  ordinary  and  common  lookin'  that  I  take  par- 
ticular notice  o'  him  right  from  the  start. 

16.  "  He  was  a  well-dressed  sort  of  fellow,  'bout 
medium  height,  maybe  twenty-three  or  twenty-four  years 

15.  On  narration  in  the  first  person,  see  S.  S.  M.,  138 :  3-4.  In 
this  story,  the  first-person  narration  springs  spontaneously  out 
of  the  philosophical  prelude,  the  story  itself  being  told  (nom- 
inally) as  an  illustration  of  the  theme  proposition.  But  it  is 
well  adapted  to  this  story  for  other  reasons,  chief  of  which  is 
that  the  interpretation  of  the  hero's  character  and  behavior  is 
more  intimate  and  convincing,  coming  from  one  who  knew  him 
and  saw  and  reflected  over  the  incidents  detailed,  than  it  could 
possibly  be  from  the  impersonal  third-person  narrator.  Note  too 
that  the  character  of  the  narrator  chosen  materially  increases  the 
value  of  his  interpretation.    How  is  it  with  "  The  Love  of  Men  "? 

16.  We  are  now  in  the  opening  of  the  plot-portion  of  the  narra- 
tive (i.e.,  of  the  story  proper,  distinct  from  the  narrative  as  it 
includes  the  thematic  prelude).  The  paragraph  is  one  of  direct 
characterizing  description  (S.  S.  M.,  222:  9).  Here  we  might  ex- 
pect the  name  of  the  central  person  to  be  given — but  is  it  given 


TTeeve  165 

old,  thin  an'  a  mite  stoop  shouldered ;  he  had  kind  o' 
scarce,  light-colored  hair  that  made  me  think  of  a  wheat 
field  that'd  been  hard  hit  with  the  drought ;  pale-blue  eyes 
that  always  looked  sort  o'  strainedlike,  as  though  he  was 
always  tryin'  to  read  somethin'  that  he  couldn't  quite 
make  out ;  great  big  forehead ;  a  thin,  high  nose  that  was 
always  kind  o'  twitchin'  at  the  end ;  a  smallish  chin  an' 
jaw,  an'  a  funny  little  mouth  that  was  always  open  just 
the  least  mite  an'  made  him  look  all  the  time  's  if  he  was 
surprised  about  somethin'.  He'd  set  around  the  smokin' 
room  listenin'  like  a  good  one  to  all  the  talk  that's  passed, 
but  never  sayin'  nothin'  himself;  an'  once  at  the  table, 
when  one  of  the  tourist  ladies  that's  sittin'  across  from 
him  asks  him  to  pass  her  somethin'  or  'nother,  he  makes 
a  mistake  an'  hands  her  the  wrong  thing.  Well,  sir,  you 
could  toast  your  feet  up  back  o'  his  ears,  he  gets  that 
red! 

17.  "  He  was  so  awful  bashful  an'  timidlike  that  I 
kind  o'  felt  for  him,  an'  one  mornin'  a  couple  o'  days  out 
he's  all  alone  when  I  comes  into  the  smokin'  room,  so  I 
asks  him  for  a  match  or  somethin',  and  sets  down  along- 
side o'  him. 

18.  "  '  Goin'  far  up  ? '  I  sez. 


anywhere  in  the  story?  If  not,  why?  Is  the  hero  thoroughly 
individualized'?  Would  giving  him  a  name  appreciably  increase 
the  eoncreteness  of  his  presentation?  Notwithstanding  the  clear 
individualization  of  him  by  the  naiTator,  is  he  anything  but  a 
type,  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  the  theme?  Is 
he  personally  of  any  importance,  so  that  you  are  interested  in 
him  at  all  except  as  he  affords  demonstration  of  the  thematic 
proposition?  Is  it  skillful  or  unskillful  treatment  that  thus 
clearly  individualizes  a  person  who,  in  himself,  is  of  no  impor- 
tance to  us  except  as  a  type  (S.  S.  M.,  208:  2-3,  with  notes)  ? 


IGG  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

19.  "'Why,  yes,  sir;  yes,  sir/  he  kind  o'  stammers. 
'  I'm  goin'  away  up  to  Juneau !  ' 

20.  "  '  Yes  ? '  sez  I.  '  Well,  Juneau's  a  nice  camp,  all 
right.' 

21.  "  '  Yes,  sir,'  he  sez,  awful  eagerlike.  '  I  heard  you 
speakin'  about  it  last  night,  an'  I  was  very  anxious  to  ask 
you  about  it.  Do  you  know  where  the  Sunburst  Mine  is  up 
there  ? ' 

22.  "  I  told  him  I  did,  an'  he  says :  '  Well,  I'm  goin' 
up  there  to  keep  books  for  them.  My  uncle  in  Phila- 
delphia— that's  where  my  home  is,  in  Philadelphia — owns 
a  lot  of  stock  in  the  mine,  an'  he  got  me  the  position. 
They're  payin'  me  a  splendid  salary,'  he  says.  '  I  sup- 
pose it's  awfully  difficult  for  them  to  get  the  kind  o'  men 
who  can  do  any  sort  o'  office  work  to  risk  goin'  up  there.' 

23.  "  I  thought  of  all  the  doctors  an'  lawyers  an' 
preachers,  too,  that  was  handlin'  nucksticks  on  the  claims 


19.  Dialogue  in  keeping  with  the  "  part  " ;  ef .  that  of  pars.  1-16. 
On  dialogue,  see  S.  S.  M.,  229-249 ;  on  characterization  and  dia- 
logue, 234:9-14;  on  dialect,  247 :  11-12.— Follow  through  the 
speech  of  the  "  hero  "  in  this  stoi'y,  noting  how  in  each  instance 
it  accords  with  and  reveals  his  character. 

21.  "...  awful  eagerlike."  In  studying  dialogue-charac- 
terization as  directed  just  above,  note  also  the  brevity  and  effec- 
tiveness of  the  narrator  in  indicating  for  us  the  manner  of  the 
speech  and  speaker.  That  dialogue  gains  much  in  effectiveness 
when  its  manner  is  conveyed  to  us  as  well  as  its  substance,  is  evi- 
dent. This  story  affords  several  good  illustrations.  Observe  how- 
ever that  such  interpretations  are  used  only  where  the  dialogue 
and  situation  are  especially  significant,  and  where  the  situation  and 
words  together  do  not  themselves  fully  disclose  the  speaker's  man- 
ner. The  inexperienced  writer  likes  to  hitch  a  description  of 
manner  to  every  speech,  no  matter  how  insignificant. 

22.  Purpose :  to  disclose  the  young  fellow's  ignorance  of  con- 
ditions; gives  us  a  more  rounded  out  realization  of  the  kind  of 
man  he  is. 


l^EEVE  167 

around  Dawson  that  would  think  they  was  back  in  civili- 
zation sure  'nough  when  they  got  outside  to  Juneau,  but 
I  kep'  a  straight  face  an'  told  him  I  reckoned  it  was. 

24.  "  '  Yes,  sir!  '  he  sez,  shuttin'  his  jaws  down  tight. 
'  I  know  I'm  takin'  a  tremendous  risk  an'  all  that,  but 
I'm  just  determined  to  stick  to  it !  I'm  gettin'  all  this 
big  salary,  you  see,  an'  then  I'm  liable  to  find  a  mine. 
They  tell  me  that  an  untried  man  who  knows  nothin' 
whatever  about  the  country  is  just  as  liable  to  stumble 
onto  a  mine  as  anj^one  else. 

25.  "  '  I  can  hardly  realize,'  he  goes  on,  '  that  I'm 
actually  en  route  to  the  Far  iSTorth !  I  never  dreamed  that 
I'd  ever  have  the  courage  to  undertake  such  a  journey ! 
I  used  to  read  of  the  hardships  that  the  men  in  Alaska 
underwent,  an'  wonder  what  motive  could  actuate  any- 
one to  voluntarily  place  themselves  in  such  peril.  But  I 
understand  now.' 

26.  "'Oh,  you  do,  eh?'  sez  I.  'Have  you  got  her 
picture  with  you  ? ' 

27.  "  '  Yes,  sir,'  he  sez,  flushin'  up.  '  That's  it !  But, 
you  see,  I  haven't  very  much  money.  I  couldn't  see  how 
we  were  goin'  to  be  able  to  make  a  go  of  it  for  a  fright- 


24.  Gives  a  forehint  of  the  element  of  "  nerve  "  in  him — stick- 
ing the  thing  through  no  matter  how  hard  it  is  for  him,  once  he 
beHeves  that  he  ought  to.  Unobtrusive  character-touches  and 
hints  (S.  S.  M.,  257)  like  this  aid  greatly  in  giving  verisimilitude 
to  the  character  portrayal  by  keeping  suggestions  of  the  char- 
acter-conception before  us  and  causing  us  unawaredly  to  realize 
the  nature  of  the  person  thi'ough  his  characteristic  speech  and 
acts.  Where  such  suggestive  details  abound  and  are  well  man- 
aged, no  outright  interpretation  or  analysis  of  the  character  may 
be  needed  at  all ;  consider  Ring  Lardner's  baseball  and  detective 
heroes  and  Harris  Dickson's  negroes  as  examples  of  work  in 
which  the  latter  method  prevails. 


IGS  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

fully  long-  tiiuc,  au'  when  this  offer  came  it  just  seemed 
providential! 

28.  "  '  She  didn't  want  me  to  take  it;  she's  very  im- 
selfish,  you  know,  an'  she  said  she  didn't  care  about  the 
money  part  at  all ;  but  then,  of  course,  girls  never  can  see 
the  practical  side  o'  things ! 

29.  "  '  I  told  her  it  wasn't  right  for  a  fellow  to  keep 
a  girl  waiting  for  years  an'  years,  as  she'd  be  obliged  to 
wait  if  I  worked  up  in  the  place  I  was  employed  then; 
an'  that  by  comin'  up  here  I  could  save  enough  out  of  my 
salary  alone,  even  if  I  didn't  discover  a  mine  or  anything 
like  that,  to  give  us  a  start. 

30.  "  An'  sir,  he  went  on  an'  on  like  that.  Seemed 
as  though  I'd  pulled  the  cork  out  of  a  bottle  of  perpetual 
conversation ! 

31.  "  He  showed  me  the  girl's  picture  an'  told  me  how 
he  happened  to  meet  her,  an'  all  about  her  family  history 
an'  all  of  his. 

32.  "  Then  he  began  hammerin'  again  on  what  a  risk 
he  was  takin'  in  comin'  that  far  north,  an'  all  that.  He 
was  scared  of  everything !  Scared  the  boat  would  go 
down  !  Scared  he'd  freeze  to  death  somehow  up  in  Juneau 
that  winter !  Scared  he'd  get  snowed  in  an'  starve  to 
death !     Seared  he  wouldn't  get  enough  fresh  vegetables 


30.    Supplementary  character  detail. 

32-33.  Intensifying  (emphasizing)  detail  (S.  S.  M.,  107:  30-35)  ; 
makes  us  appreciate  how  much  moral  nerve  he  showed  in  the 
later  incident,  when  he  "  called  "  the  bad  man.  See  also  pars. 
40-41.  If  one  is  thoughtfully  minded,  par.  33  provides  material' 
for  reflection  upon  the  effect  that  the  imagination  and  an  imagina- 
tive tendency  of  mind  can  have  upon  one's  affairs — another 
illustration  of  the  fact  that  fiction  opens  ways  in  all  directions 
into  the  philosophies  of  human  life. 


Nerve  169 

to  eat  an'  he'd  die  o'  the  scurvy!  Scared  that  he'd  rim 
into  a  crowd  o'  rough  necks  that'd  murder  him  right  out 
o'  hand!  Scared  o'  every  kind  o'  death  he  could  think  of! 
An'  he  could  think  o'  more  kinds  an'  worse  than  a  bunch 
o'  drunken  'Pache  Injuns  with  a  healthy  white  man  for  a 
prisoner ! 

33.  "  It  wasn't  only  that  he  just  thought  of  it  casual- 
like. No,  he  just  naturally  seen  it  all  plain!  He  seen 
himself  lyin'  out  in  the  snow,  froze  to  death !  He  seen  his 
legs  all  eat  off  with  the  scurvy !  He  fairly  got  thin  from 
seein'  himself  snowed  in  an'  starvin'  to  death ! 

34.  "  I  eased  his  mind  down  as  much  as  I  could ;  tried 
to  make  him  see  that  keepin'  hoohs  in  Juneau  or  in  any 
o'  the  mines  around  there  wasn't  a  heap  different  from 
doin'  the  same  thing  in  Philadelphia.  But  it  wasn't  no 
use !  As  fast  as  I'd  rub  out  one  picture  o'  ten-cent  novel 
death  an'  disaster  with  a  little  common  sense,  this  here 
imagination  o'  his  would  have  another  fine  one  painted,  all 
covered  over  with  plenty  o'  gore  an'  pieces  o'  torn-up  bone 
an'  flesh,  an'  he'd  be  dyin'  all  over  again ! 

35.  "  I  wound  up  in  Juneau  that  winter  dealin'  black- 
jack in  the  dance  hall  there,  an'  one  day,  'long  in  Janu- 
ary, I'm  takin'  the  wrinkles  out  o'  my  bread-basket  over 
in  the  northern  restaurant  when  this  young  calamity 
howler  I'm  speakin'  of  comes  in. 

35-41.  The  expositional  stage  of  the  story  proper  (pars.  14-41) 
here  merges  off  into  a  transitional  division,  in  which  we  begin  to 
feel  a  more  active  mood  and  perceive  narrative  movement,  espe- 
cially in  the  indication  of  elapse  of  time.  No  other  story  in 
this  volume  is  so  slow  in  taking  up  the  action  of  the  sustaining 
plot.  This  however  is  not  an  adverse  criticism;  for  no  other 
story  has  quite  the  same  thematic  conception  as  this.     The  stu- 


lYO  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

3G.  "  He's  plumb  tickled  to  meet  up  with  me  again, 
an'  squats  'longside  to  have  a  chow. 

37.  "  '  Well,'  sez  I,  '  you're  one  o'  the  most  lifelike- 
lookin'  corpses  I  ever  did  see!  Did  you  freeze  to  death 
or  die  o'  the  scurvy?  I  been  aimin'  to  send  a  wreath  o' 
evergreens  or  somethin'  to  put  on  your  grave,  but  I 
couldn't  find  out  where  you  was  buried!  ' 

38.  "  He  kind  o'  colors  up  an'  laughed  a  little  embar- 
rassedlike. 

39.  "  '  I  was  frightfully  green,  wasn't  I  ? '  he  sez.  '  I 
expected  to  find  a  horribly  savage  sort  o'  place  when  I  got 
here.    Really,  you  know,  it  isn't  half  bad  at  all. 

40.  "  '  There's  one  thing,  though,'  he  goes  on,  pickin' 
up  his  old  dead  an'  forsaken  tone  o'  voice.  '  You  know 
the  office  out  at  the  mine  is  situated  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  mouth  of  the  shaft,  an'  the  men  pass  right  by 
the  door  every  day  carrying  the  dynamite  from  the 
powder  house.  I  tell  you  there's  goin'  to  be  a  horrible 
accident  there  some  day  I  It's  positively  criminal  the  way 
they  handle  those  high  explosives !  One  would  think  they 
were  carrying  so  many  sticks  o'  wood !  ' 

41.  "  An'  he's  off  again !  I  see  him  after  that  off  an' 
on  hustlin'  round  camp  with  that  scared,  peerin'  way  he 
had,  an'  every  time  I  met  him  he  had  some  new  brand  o' 
sure  death  doped  out!     He'd  'a'  been  worth  wages  to  any 


dent  is  advised  to  consider  in  this  connection  the  entire  discus- 
sion of  story  openings  in  S.  S.  M.,  122-151,  noting  that  although 
action  whereby  the  caiTying  plot  (S.  S.  M.,  107:30-31)  is  devel- 
oped does  not  begin  before  par.  42,  there  is  no  lack  of  interest 
(S.  S.  M.,  126:  7  and  249)  in  what  precedes,  and  that  the  element 
of  activity  (not  action;  S.  S.  M.,  37:4)  is  one  reason  for  this. 
On  these  matters,  also  of.  especially  S.  S.  M.,  125 :  6 ;  130 :  14 ; 
132:16;  135:21. 


Nerve  lYl 

undertaker  just  to  stick  around  an'  keep  off  the  blues 
when  business  was  bad ! 

42.  "  Same  spring,  an'  the  snows'  gone  out.  The  kid 
goes  agin  the  same  old  game  that  every  man  in  a  minin' 
country  that  ain't  prospector  himself  always  does  fall  for, 
an'  grubstaked  an'  old  walkin'  whisky  vat  who'd  'a'  been 
shipped  out  o'  camp  long  before  only  they  was  lookin'  for 
him  to  slough  off  every  day,  an'  figured  it'd  be  cheaper 
to  plant  him  than  pay  his  fare  below. 


42.  Plot  action  now  begins  to  develop.  The  narrative  may  be 
outlined  thus: 

Stage      I,  philosophical  prelude — theme  analyzed — pars.  1-14. 

Stage  II,  expositional  opening — pars.  15-41 — A,  central  per- 
son characterized,  pars.  16-34 — B,  transition  to  stage 
of  plot  development,  pars.  35-41. 

Stage  III,  first  plot  incident,  pars.  42-69 — A,  motivating  facts, 
pars.  42-59 — B,  crisis  of  incident,  pars.  60-69. 

Stage  IV,  second  plot  incident,  pars.  70-96 — A,  expositional 
facts  motivating  incident,  pars.  70-78 — B,  crisis  of 
incident,  and  climactic  height  of  story,  pars.  79-96. 

Stage     V,  falling  action  and  prompt  close,  pars.  97-101. 

Observe  how  plausibility  (S.  S.  M.,  90:9-13;  241)  is  secured. 
The  belief  of  prospectors  and  miners  in  "  fools'  luck "  is  wide- 
spread, whether  sound  or  not;  and  the  author  introduces  this 
class-belief  (which  has  extended  itself  to  almost  all  classes), 
knowing  that  its  general  acceptance  will  obscure  or  remove  in 
the  reader's  mind  the  reflection  that  a  "  strike  "  by  the  "  kid  "  is 
extremely  improbable. — Examination  will  reveal  that  the  entire 
problem  of  so  motivating  the  gambling  incident  as  to  give  it 
plausibility  is  ticklish.  A  timid,  retiring  fellow,  whose  mental 
state  is  largely  a  succession  of  imaginative  terrors  and  who 
would  think  a  game  of  "  rummy  "  an  adventurous  dissipation,  has 
to  be  motivated  into  a  situation  utterly  remote  from  his  natural 
instincts  and  from  the  ordinary  probabilities  of  such  a  ease; 


172  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

43.  "  We  might  'a'  knowed  it !  A  pea-green  sucker  an' 
an  old  lush  that  you  wouldn't  think  had  the  legs  to  carry 
him  out  o'  sight  o'  camp,  nor  the  sand  left  in  him  to  let 
his  feet  get  that  far  from  a  bar  rail!  Luck  couldn't  never 
pass  up  no  such  a  pair  as  that!  Especially  when  they 
was  good  men  combin'  them  hills  that  had  put  in  their 
whole  life  prospectin',  an'  the  nearest  thing  to  gold  they 
ever  got  was  a  Indian's  complexion,  an'  the  only  silver 
they  could  show  was  what  hardship  had  washed  their  hair 
with. 

44.  "  Why,  that  combination  o'  ignorance  an'  booze 
would  'a'  struck  pay  dirt  in  a  Kansas  cornfield ! 

45.  "  Sure  they  hit  it !  Hit  it  rich !  Sold  out  the 
mere  prospect  for  $38,000  apiece,  an'  the  old  man  he 
melts  out  o'  existence  in  one  geelorious  three-week  bath, 
an'  leaves  what's  left  o'  his  part  o'  the  bank  roll  to  the 
kid. 


otherwise  no  incident  can  be  built  up  wherein  he  must  clash 
with  the  crude  and  uncombed  violence  of  pioneer  conditions  and 
with  unrestrained  human  impulsiveness.  In  other  words,  he 
must  do  something  absolutely  "  out  of  character,"  and  we  must 
be  made  to  feel  that  his  doing  it  is  true  to  human  experience 
and  natural  in  the  particular  circumstances.  Now  observe  how 
the  author  has  motivated  him  into  this  situation  and  us  into 
acceptance  of  it.  (1)  The  developing  means  decided  on  is  a 
gambling  quarrel.  (Reasons  for  the  choice:  Truth  in  local 
coloring,  adding  to  romantic  element  in  setting  and  atmosphere; 
and  diametric  unlikeness  to  "  kid's "  experience — he  must  face 
the  thing  that  is  hardest  for  him.)  (2)  The  "  kid's  "  mental  state 
is  prepared  for  his  divagation  into  uncharacteristic  adventure. 
This  is  accomplished  by  means  of  his  "strike";  he  not  only 
has  money,  so  that  the  investment  of  twenty  dollars  in  gambling 
no  longer  seems  an  impossible  extravagance,  but  he  is  also  in 
that  state  of  exultation  which,  following  on  notable  success  of 
any  kind,  relaxes  the  inhibitions  of  habit,  reflection  and  convie- 


Nerve  173 

46.  "  One  night  about  a  week  after  the  old  man  dies, 
Dick  Croton,  who's  runnin'  the  poker  game  in  the  joint 
I'm  workin'  in,  finds  out  that  he's  gettin'  more'n  his  share 
o'  the  loose  change  lyin'  'round  camp,  an'  bein'  fair- 
minded,  he  starts  out  to  distribute  it.  His  neck  gets  stiff 
from  tiltin'  it  back;  to  be  sure,  there  ain't  none  left  in 
the  bottom  o'  the  glass,  an'  his  fingers  git  so  dizzy  un- 
windin'  his  bank  roll  that  he  couldn't  deal  tiddledywinks 
in  a  kindergarten  for  idiot  children  an'  hold  his  own !  So, 
the  blackjack  play  bein'  light  that  night,  I  close  my  game 
an'  go  behind  the  dummy  for  him. 

47.  "  'Long  about  eight  o'clock  we're  single  footin' 
along  in  a  six-handed  draw  game  when  this  young  son  o' 

tion  (truth  to  psychological  experience)  ;  he  is  in  a  mood  that 
makes  it  easy  to  take  a  try  at  adventure.  (Note  the  persistence 
of  his  normal  nature,  however,  in  his  suggestion  that  he  can 
afford  that  much  in  return  for  the  old  timer's  friendship,  and 
in  the  guileless  innocence  with  which  he  rakes  in  the  winnings 
without  realizing  that  he  is  "  riling  "  the  seasoned  and  hardened 
players).  (3)  His  out-of-character  appearance  in  the  gambhng 
place  is  arranged  by  his  coming  to  say  good-by  before  leaving  for 
the  States.  (4)  There  is  a  touch  of  natural  human  perversity 
and  irritation  in  the  old  man's  suggestion  ("generating  circum- 
stance") that  the  "kid"  sit  in,  but  the  "kid"  is  too  innocent 
to  see  that,  and  his  innocence,  coupled  with  his  confidence  in 
the  old-timer,  is  the  last  deciding  influence  in  bringing  him  into 
the  situation  in  which  the  author  started  out  to  place  him. — 
Once  more  we  must  reflect  that  the  author  quite  probably  did 
not  reason  this  all  out  in  this  detailed  way;  but  he  instinctively 
felt  these  requirements  and  considerations,  as  is  proved  by  our 
analysis  of  his  management  of  the  motivation.  We  may  append 
a  moral  to  these  remarks :  motivation  of  single  incidents  may  be 
as  important  and  as  difficult  as  motivation  of  the  action  as  a 
whole;  and  adequate  motivation  of  the  whole  may  easily  be  nulli- 
fied by  unconvincing  motivation  of  some  developing  part. 

42-59.  Here  occur  some  speeches  that  should  be  studied  in  con- 
nection with  the  suggestion  made  in  the  note  on  par.  19. 


17-i  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

luck  ambles  into  the  dump  lookin'  for  me.  He  come  side 
steppin'  thro'  the  crowd  in  front  o'  the  bar,  excusin'  him- 
self every  time  anybody  bumped  into  him,  an'  finally 
fetches  up  by  my  layout. 

48.  "  '  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Nelson  ? '  he  sez.  '  I  hope 
I'm  not  intrudin'.  I'm  goin'  to  leave  tonight  on  the 
Cottage  City,  an'  I  just  come  in  to  say  good-by.  Perhaps 
you  may  have  heard  someone  speak  of  my  good  fortune  ? ' 

49.  "  '  Yes/  sez  I.  '  An'  perJiaps  I  may  have  heard 
someone  in  this  camp  speak  o'  somethin'  else  in  the  past 
few  weeks,  but  I  don't  remember  it !  It's  too  bad,  kid,' 
I  sez,  '  with  all  that  money  thrown  on  your  hands,  the 
way  you're  runniu'  an  awful  risk  o'  livin'  too  high  an' 
dyin'  o'  liver  trouble !  But,'  sez  I,  '  we  all  got  to  take 
chances ;  don't  we  ?  What  time  does  your  boat 
leave  ? ' 

50.  "  '  Two  o'clock  in  the  mornin','  he  sez. 

51.  "  '  Two  o'clock  is  a  long  ways  off,'  sez  I,  '  an' 
there's  room  for  a  live  one  here.  You  ever  dabbles  in 
this  sweet  sin  at  all  ?  ' 

52.  "  '  Why,  no,  sir,'  he  sez.  '  I  never  played  any 
myself,  but  I  used  to  watch  the  fellows  at  prep  school  play 
sometimes,  so  I  understand  the  relative  value  of  the  dif- 
ferent cards  an'  all  that.' 

53.  "  '  Well,'  sez  I,  '  you'll  never  learn  the  curse  o' 
gamblin'  any  younger.     Come  on  in  an'  get  your  feet  wet.' 

54.  "  '  Why,  really,  Mr.  N'elson,'  he  sez,  '  I'd  like  to 

awfully  well,  but  I  don't  know How  much  would  it 

cost  me  to  play  for  a  little  while  ? ' 

55.  "  '  It'll  cost  you  twenty  dollars  to  sit  in,  an'  when 
that's  gone  you  can  blow  out  or  buy  more,  accordin'  to 
how  wise  you  are,'  I  sez. 


Nerve  175 

56.  "  '  By  Jove !  '  sez  he,  '  I'll  do  it !  It  will  be  a  novel 
experience/  he  sez,  '  an'  I  can  afford  to  spend  twenty  dol- 
lars with  you,  Mr.  Nelson,  in  part  payment  for  the  many 
little  kindnesses  you  showed  me  comin'  up  on  the  boat 
last  year.     Where  shall  I  sit  ? ' 

57.  "  Well,  sir,  he  didn't  know  a  thing  about  the  game. 
We  had  to  explain  this  an'  that  to  him  every  deal,  but 
luck!  If  I  was  to  dream  that  I  was  havin'  a  streak 
o'  luck  like  that  I'd  shoot  any  man  that  woke 
me   up. 

58.  "  First  hand  he  played  he  hocked  in  on  a  short 
pair  against  a  pot  flush,  got  three  aces  on  the  draw,  showed 
me  his  full  house,  an'  asked  me  if  I  would  advise  him  to 
bet  on  it ! 

59.  "  It  was  a  joke  to  the  rest  o'  the  bunch  at  first,  but 
it  kep'  on  so  steady  that  he  come  near  cornerin'  the  game, 
an'  pretty  soon  some  of  'em  began  to  get  kind  o'  sore. 

60.  "  Tex  Morrissey  was  in  the  game  that  night,  an'  I 
guess  he'd  had  a  few  drinks.  Anyhow,  him  an'  the  kid 
gets  tangled  up  in  a  lot  o'  big  pots,  an'  the  kid  draws  out 
on  him  every  hand. 

61.  "  This  Tex  person  was  a  pretty  fairly  haughty  sort 
of  a  party — one  o'  them  workin'  dogs  that's  right  there 
with  the  big  bite,  too !  He  gets  right  sore  at  the  way  the 
kid's  cuttin'  him  out  o'  the  grapes  every  time,  an'  starts 
in  makin'  some  pretty  cuttin'  talk.  Finally  the  kid  beats 
a  jack  full  for  him  with  four  eights,  an'  Tex  throws  down 
his  hand  an'  talks  out  in  meetin'. 

62.  "  '  Say !     Lookahere,  you  snivelin'  little  white-liv- 


60-69.    Climactic  height  of  this  (the  first  developing)  incident. 


ITG  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

orcd  rat,'  lie  sez;  '  I'm  no  squealer  an'  I  don't  mind  havin' 
a  full-growned  man  beat  me  ont  o'  my  money,  but  I  don't 
like  the  color  o'  your  eyebrows !  An'  if  you're  man  enough 
to  win  my  money,  you're  man  enough  to  step  outside  an' 
take  a  lickin'  or  give  one !  ' 

63.  "  '  Why !  '  sez  the  kid  trcmblin'  all  anew.  '  I— I 
didn't  mean  to  offend  you,  really  I  didn't !  I  didn't  mean 
to  beat  you;  it,  it  just  happened  that  way!  I  couldn't 
help  it!  I — I  can't  fight,  sir;  really  I  can't.  And  then 
you're  ever  so  much  bigger  than  I  am,  you  know !  Here  !  ' 
he  sez,  pushin'  all  his  chips  out  on  the  center  o'  the  table, 
'  just  take  these  and  let  me  go !  That's  as  much  as  I  won 
from  you.  Please  take  it !  I  don't  care  about  the  money ; 
indeed,  I  don't.  I  had  no  idea  of  winnin'  any  way.  I 
was  just  playin'  for  pastime.' 

G-i.  "  O'  course  him  offering  to  give  the  money  back 
kind  o'  put  the  laugh  over  on  Tex,  an'  that  made  him 
madder'n  ever.  He  jerks  out  a  thirty-eight  gun  an'  throws 
it  on  the  table. 

65.  "  '  Pick  that  up  an'  hop  to  it,  you  dirty  little 
whelp !  '  he  sez.  '  God  made  some  men  big  an'  some  little, 
but  guns  evened  'em  up !  I've  got  the  mate  to  that  on 
me,  so  grab  her  up  an'  beat  me  to  it  if  you  can,  an'  if  you 
don't  see  this  play  thro'  you're  a !  " 

66.  *'  The  poor  kid  couldn't  move !  he  just  sits  there 
slumped  down  in  his  chair,  starin'  at  Tex  with  his  mouth 
hangin'  open,  waitin'  for  his  finish! 

67.  "  O'  course  I'm  due  about  this  time,  an'  when  the 
gun  leaves  the  table  I'm  on  the  operatin'  end  of  it  an'  Tex 
is  dustin'  the  ceilin'  with  his  finger  tips ! 

68.  "  Soon's  ever  the  kid  see's  I've  got  him  covered,  he 
give  a  jump  and  lit  runnin ' !     Never  stopped  to  cash  his 


Neeve  177 

chips  nor  nothin' !    Just  dodged  for  the  door,  an'  he  didn't 
stop  to  beg  nobody's  pardon  neither ! 

69.  "  *  Come  on !  '  sez  Tex  when  the  kid's  gone,  '  put 
that  gun  in  storage,  Charley!  I  wasn't  aimin'  to  hurt 
the  kid !  I  knowed  he  wouldn't  have  the  nerve  to  pick  up 
my  play!  He  was  gettin'  so  cocky  holdin'  all  them  big 
hands.  I  just  wanted  to  show  him  where  he  got  off  in  a 
real  game!  ' 

70.  "  O'  course  it  really  ain't  none  o'  my  row,  so  I  gi\. 
him  his  gun,  an'  we  has  a  drink  apiece  on  it  an'  the  rue 
tion's  over.  Come  twelve  o'clock,  I'm  off  shift  for  an 
hour  to  get  my  eats.  I'm  across  in  the  restaurant  havin' 
chow  when  in  comes  the  kid.  He  comes  straight  over  to 
my  table  an'  sat  down,  an',  sir,  I  never  see  a  man  so 
awful  white !  His  jaw  was  clinched  so  hard  you  could 
see  the  little  ridges  in  his  face  where  the  cords  stood  out. 
He  set  there  with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  thrustin'  an' 
pullin'  his  fingers,  lookin'  straight  at  me,  but  never  sayin' 
a  word !  Seemed's  if  his  jaw  was  shut  so  awful  tight  he 
couldn't  git  it  open  to  speak !  All  the  scared,  peerin'  look 
was  gone  out  o'  his  eyes;  they  was  dead  hard  an'  stern, 
but  awful  solemn  an'  sad  like. 

71.  "  '  Mr.  ISTelson,'  he  sez  finally,  steady  as  a  clock. 
'  I've  got  to  fight  with  that  man !  ' 

72.  "  '  You've  got  to  what  ? '  sez  I. 

70-96.  Second  developing  incident  of  the  story,  including  its 
climactic  height. — Observe  the  "hints"  (especially  mood  hints)  in 
par.  70  (S.  S.  M.,  257,  bottom).    Look  for  others  in  the  story. 

72.  Illustrates  how  dialogue  can  have  dramatic  effect  without 
requiring  any  extraneous  explanation.  Visualize  the  .scene,  and 
imagine  the  explosive  astonishment  with  which  the  old  man  utters 
the  exclamation.  Moral :  let  act  and  speech  interpret  themselves 
whenever  they  will;  explanation  detracts  from  dramatic  value. 


178  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

73.  "  '  I've  got  to  fight  with  tliat  man  that  insulted 
me  this  evenin','  he  goes  on.  '  I've  simply  got  to  do  it, 
sir !  When  I  left  the  dance  hall  I  ran  right  down  to  the 
boat  and  locked  myself  in  my  stateroom  and  I've  been 
lyin'  there  ever  since  thinkin'  it  all  over!  I've  got  to 
do  it !  ' 

74.  "  '  Why,  boy !  '  I  sez,  '  what's  the  matter  with  you? 
You're  crazy.  You  can't  fight  him,  you  haven't  got  the 
ghost  of  a  show !  an'  once  you  get  him  sure  'nough  riled  up 
he'll  finish  you !  ' 

75.  "  '  Yes,  sir,'  he  sez,  monotonous  an'  steady  as  an 
old  clock  a-tickin'.  '  1  know  he  wall,  but  there  isn't  any 
other  way !  If  I  w^ere  to  leave  town  without  fightin'  him, 
after  the  names  he  called  me,  I'd  be  a  coward,  and  she 
doesn't  like  cowards.  You  see,  sir,  I  don't  want  to  fight, 
but  it's  my  duty,  so  there  isn't  anythin'  else  for  me  to  do. 


75.  Beneath  the  "  kid's  "  explanation  of  his  determination  may 
be  found  the  basic  fact  of  human  nature  on  which  the  theme  itself 
is  motivated :  the  inner  impulse  to  do  what  seems  prescribed  by 
the  standards  of  self-respect,  regardless  of  consequences.  The 
story  as  a  whole  enlarges  our  understanding  of  man  (S.  S.  M., 
1: 14;  5: 11;  43: 1),  as  good  fiction  should  do;  accomplishing  its 
purpose  by  integrating  (S.  S.  M.,  166:  23)  a  thematic  proposition 
with  incidents  concretely  embodying  and  exemplifying  the 
thought  (S.  S.  M.,  2:5-11).  Its  method  in  this  is  that  of  pro- 
viding a  direct  definition  of  courage  ("nerve")  combined  with 
an  artistic  presentation  of  courage  manifested  in  a  concrete  in- 
stance— the  impression  of  the  whole  being  increased  by  the  tacit 
suggestion,  which  experience  teaches  us  is  true,  that  courage  may 
manifest  itself  unexpectedly  in  persons  who  seem  almost  com- 
pletely to  want  it.  We  find  therefore  that  ultimately  our  story 
owes  its  convincingness  to  the  fact  that  it  is  founded  on  human 
nature,  i.e.,  motivated  in  the  nature  of  man,  the  only  satisfying 
basis.  See  (in  addition  to  references  above)  S.  S.  M.,  15:6; 
34: 19-22;  43 : 1-4;  46 :  8-17;  191 :  5-6;  209:  3-5;  (213 :  7) ;  217:  4; 
256 :  bottom. 


Nekve  179 

76.  "  '  O'  course/  he  sez,  '  it's  useless  for  me  to  attempt 
to  fight  him  with  my  fists,  so  I  want  you  to  loan  me  your 
revolver.' 

77.  "  C  course,  first  off,  I  wasn't  goin'  to  let  him  have 
it,  but  as  I  sit  there  tryin'  to  figure  out  what  to  say  to  get 
this  nutty  idea  out  o'  his  head,  it  come  over  me  strong 
that  hid  away  somewhere's  in  that  little  carcass  o'  his  was 
a  chunk  o'  real  man  that's  got  to  be  treated  as  such.  O' 
course  a  mans  got  to  play  his  own  game,  an'  I  chucked 
him  my  gun. 

78.  "  '  Kid,'  sez  I,  '  go  your  way !  ITow  listen  !  This 
Tex's  quicker'n  chain  lightin'  on  the  draw.  Keep  out  o' 
sight,  get  up  to  him  from  behind  an'  git  close  so's  you 
can't  miss !  Cover  him  an'  tell  him  "  ban's  up,"  watch 
them  ban's !  an'  if  one  of  'em  makes  a  wiggle  anyways 
'ceptin'  straight  up,  don't  wait  fer  nothin'  else,  but  shoot ! 
an'  keep  on  shootin' !  'cause  he'll  draw  an'  drop  ye  'fore 
ever  you  can  pull  a  trigger!  '  An'  just  then  the  door 
opens  an'  in  comes  Tex  ! 

79.  "  We're  sittin'  at  a  table  on  the  lefthand  side  as 
you  come  in,  about  halfway  back,  an'  as  luck'd  have  it, 
Tex  is  just  in  to  buy  a  smoke,  an  turns  to  the  cigar  case 
at  the  end  o'  the  counter,  an'  on  the  right-hand  side,  an' 
stands  there  with  his  back  turned  our  way  'thout  ever 
seein'  us. 

80.  "  I'm  sittin'  facin'  the  door  so  the  kid  don't  see  him 
come  in.     I  leans  over  the  table  and  whispers  to  him: 

81.  "  '  Keep  cool !  '  I  sez,  '  here  he  is  !  ' 

82.  "  The  kid  turns  around  quick,  see's  him  standin' 
there,  an',  sir,  he  never  hesitated  nor  nothin'.  He  got 
right  up  an'  walked  toward  the  door,  like's  if  he  was  goin' 


180  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

on  out,  holdin'  the  gun  down  'longside  his  leg,  an'  when 
he's  most  at  the  door  an'  right  behind  Tex,  he  stops,  points 
the  gun  at  him,  an'  sez,  just  as  natural  an'  easy  as  a 
man'd  ask  for  a  match: 

83.  "  '  Oh,  Mr.  Morrissey.' 

84.  "  Tex  he  turns  to  see  who's  callin'  him,  see's  the 
kid  holdin'  the  gun  right  down  on  him  an'  starts  back 
agin  the  counter  with  his  eyes  fair  poppin'  out  o'  his  head  ! 

85.  "  '  Put  your  hands  up  over  your  head  just  a  minute 
until  I  get  thro'  talkin','  sez  the  kid.  An'  when  they're 
elevated  proper,  he  goes  on :  '  You  insulted  me  this  evenin', 
Mr.  Morrissey,  an'  dared  me  to  fight  you.  I  was  scared 
and  ran  away.  I  didn't  want  to  fight  you,  but  I  find  I 
have  to.' 

86.  "  I  have  heard  that  you  are  accustomed  to  handlin' 
a  gun  and  have  the  knack  of  gettin'  it  out  of  your  pocket 
very  quickly,  so  of  course  I'd  have  no  chance  at  all  unless 
I  had  mine  out  first.  I'll  hold  my  gun  down  at  my  side, 
and  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  won't  raise  it  to  fire  until 
I  see  that  your  hand  is  at  your  pocket.  I'm  very  sure  that 
that  will  be  fair  to  you.  That's  all,  sir !  you  can  take  your 
hands  down  now  and  take  out  your  revolver  whenever  you 
are  ready.' 

87.  "  An'  the  kid  drops  his  gun  at  his  side ! 

88.  "  Tex  stood  there  kind  o'  crouched  a  little,  scrooged 
back  agin  the  case,  starin'  at  the  kid,  an'  the  kid  he's  just 
watchin'  them  hands  same  as  I  told  him  to. 

89.  "  They  stood  that  way,  neither  one  of  'em  movin' 
a  muscle  for  maybe  half  a  minute !  It  seemed  to  me  like 
an  hour!  An'  then  Tex  began  to  lower  his  right  hand 
awful  slow!  He'd  move  it  down  maybe  an  inch  at  a  time 
an'  then  stop ! 


ISTekve  181 

90.  "  It  come  down  inch  by  inch  till  it  was  even  with 
his  neck !  Then  down  on  his  chest,  an'  there  she  stops,  an' 
they  stood  there  starin'  at  each  other,  neither  one  of  'em 
battin'  an  eye,  an'  then  the  sweat  begin  to  come  out  on 
Tex,  an'  I  knowed  he  was  all  thro' ! 

91.  "  Then  his  chest  started  heavin'  like  he'd  been  run- 
nin'  hard,  an'  his  hand  starts  movin'  up  again,  slow,  inch 
by  inch  just  like  he'd  brought  it  down,  till  it's  up  over  his 
head  agin! 

92.  "  All  this  time  you  could  see  his  face  sort  o'  goin' 
to  pieces  just  like  rotten  ice,  it  look's  if  you  could  poke  it 
with  your  finger  an'  leave  a  dent  in  it ! 

93.  "  He  licks  his  lips  a  couple  o'  times  an'  sez  in  a 
sort  o'  whisper,  '  Don't  shoot !  don't  shoot !  Let  me  go, 
will  you  ? ' 

94.  " '  Yes,  sir,'  sez  the  kid,  steady  and  clear,  by 
Hokey !  as  a  man  could  speak.  '  I'll  be  glad  to  if  you'll 
apologize  for  what  you  said  to  me  tonight.' 

95.  "  '  1  take  it  back,'  sez  Tex.     '  Can  I  go  now  ? ' 

96.  "  '  Certainly,'  sez  the  kid,  an'  Tex  turns  'round  an' 
walks  out  still  holdin'  his  hands  in  the  air,  like's  if  he'd 
forgot  they  was  up  there! 

97.  "  After  he's  gone  the  kid  looks  do^vn  at  the  gun  in 
his  hand  an'  studies  it  for  a  minute  curious  like,  winks 
his  eyes  fast  like  a  sleep-walker  comin'  to,  turns  the  gun 


97-101.  Note  the  rapid  falling  action  and  quick  close.  Espe- 
cially note  the  wisdom  of  omitting  a  philosophical  eiDilogue;  the 
prologue-argument  and  the  concrete  exemplification  presented 
through  the  action  have  fully  established  the  theme.  If  one 
wishes,  however,  he  can  regard  the  closing  sentence  as  an  enforc- 
ing comment. 


182  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

over  in  bis  hand  an'  studies  it  in  a  puzzled  kind  o'  way, 
an'  then  the  scared  look  began  to  come  back  on  him,  an'  all 
of  a  sudden  he  gives  a  yell  an'  throws  that  gun  away  from 
him  like's  if  he'd  been  holdin'  a  rattlesnake  an'  just  found 
it  out,  an'  then  down  he  goes  in  a  fit,  laughin'  an  cryin' 
at  the  same  time ! 

98.  "  I  took  him  down  to  the  boat  an'  stayed  with  him 
till  she  sailed !  Sat  in  his  stateroom  an'  tried  to  figure 
out  how  that  shakin'  bundle  o'  misery  layin'  in  the  bunk 
had  ever  stood  on  his  two  feet  an'  outgamed  a  tough  old 
gunman  like  Tex ! 

99.  "  When  they  called  '  All  ashore'  an  I  got  up  to  go 
he  grabbed  hold  o'  my  hand  with  both  o'  his  an'  looks  up 
at  me  pleadin'  like.  His  face  was  all  streaked  over  with 
tears,  an'  his  eyes  was  red  an'  swollen  from  cryin'.  He 
looked  like  a  ten-year-old  kid  that'd  been  spanked  an'  put 
to  bed  without  his  supper ! 

100.  "  '  Mr.  Nelson,'  he  sez.  '  Tell  me  the  truth.  Am 
I  a  coward  ? ' 

101.  "  '  Kid,'  sez  I,  '  You're  the  gamest  dog-gone  man 
that  ever  stood  in  shoe  leather !  '  An'  in  spite  o'  the  fact 
that  he's  prob'ly  worrin'  himself  gray  headed  right  now 
for  fear  somebody'll  drop  somethin'  overboard  from  one 
o'  these  here  flyin'  machines  some  dark  night  an'  kill  him. 
I'm  thinkin'  I  told  him  the  gospel  truth !  " 


A  QUIET  LIFE  OR  LIFE  ON  THE  QUIET 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  A  story  notable  for  having  an  event-group  of  ro- 
mantic or  melodramatic  nature,  with  adventure  intensi- 
fying accompaniment,  subordinated  to  a  situation  of  com- 
monplace, with  everyday  environment  and  atmosphere  to 
match.  The  action  that  carries  the  story  to  the  outcome 
required  by  the  motif  and  theme,  is  merely  the  conver- 
sational incident  at  the  supper  table,  and  the  ensuing  inci- 
dents, nearly  all  occurring  in  the  same  pathetic  environ- 
ment,— affording  an  opportunity  for  the  conversations  of 
Mr.  Opt.  The  framework  is  the  commonplace  action  nec- 
essary to  give  Mr.  Opt's  dialogue  a  chance  to  trickle  forth 
until  at  last  enough  of  it  collects  to  reveal  his  romantic 
or  exciting  past.  This  is  a  form  of  indirect  narration. 
Here  it  serves  to  emphasize  the  contrast  (first  pointed  out 
by  the  title)  between  the  lives  of  Opt  the  man  and  Opt  the 
burglar.  For  the  sake  of  comparison,  it  might  be  worth 
the  trouble  to  write  out  the  story  of  Opt's  past  in  direct 
form — that  is,  as  two  crook-adventure-sentiment  stories, 
recounting  merely  the  adventures  of  Opt,  and  merely  for 
their  own  interest.     See  next  note. 

2.  See  S.  S.  M.,  104:  24-25.  It  is  possible  to  call  this 
a  story  within  a  sketch — the  story  of  Opt's  past  hung  on 
the  sketch  of  Mrs.  Roddy's  boarding-house  and  boarders. 
Aside  from  the  contrast  between  Opt,  the  man  who  knows 
what  real  excitement  is,  and  his  life,  and  Doc  Spears,  who 
only  thinks  he  knows — the  most  notable  fiction  element  is 

183 


184  Today's  Siioet  Stoeies  Analyzed 

characterization  and  social  atmosphere.  In  fact,  the  story 
of  Opt's  past  includes  two  complete  dramatic  movements, 
and  some  supplementary  facts.  The  two  movements, 
though  sketch]  ly  outlined  in  the  dialogue,  can  be  devel- 
oped into  two  complete  dramatic  stories,  with  climax,  out- 
come, and  the  other  essentials  of  a  short-story  plot.  The 
first  is  the  episode  in  which  Opt  takes  the  blame  for  the 
second  maid's  theft  (their  subsequent  marriage,  as  pre- 
sented here,  is  in  the  nature  of  a  separate  distinct  ending, 
but  might  appear  otherwise  in  the  movement  if  re- 
written). The  other  is  the  somewhat  more  melodramatic 
and  less  plausible,  though  equally  "  human,"  episode  of 
the  burglar-and-sick-child  (both  incidents  turn  upon  situa- 
tions that  are  old  in  burglar  fiction).  The  main  supple- 
mentary matter  is  the  family  history  of  the  Opts,  the  edu- 
cation of  their  son,  the  marriage  of  their  daughter,  and 
characterizing  facts  such  as  their  habit  of  helping  young 
folks.  But  as  explained  in  note  1,  the  incident  through 
which  these  two  plot-schemes  or  situations  are  sketched  is 
carried  by  the  boarding-house  action  and  dialogue. 

3.  The  entire  management,  by  which  so  much  plot  and 
action  are  successfully  got  before  the  reader  without  inter- 
fering with  his  sense  of  and  interest  in  the  boarding-house 
action,  is  highly  skillful.  Part  of  the  author's  success  in 
handling  it  is  owed  to  the  naturalness  with  which  the 
boarding-house  situation  is  gradually  developed.  Observe 
how  gradually  we  are  led,  by  means  of  much-retarded  nar- 
ration dealing  largely  with  commonplaces  of  setting,  con- 
versation, and  personal  characteristic,  to  the  disclosure 
that  Opt  is  a  burglar ;  and  then  with  more  rapid  movement, 
through  the  episodes  of  his  past. 

4.  The  establishment  of  the  theme  comes  through  an 


A-  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  185 

unusual  mothod — by  a  form  of  contrast  wherein  the  anti- 
theme  (the  contrary  of  the  real  thought)  is  repeatedly  as- 
serted, and  the  true  theme  not  positively  asserted  at  all. 
The  anti-theme  is  disproved  and  the  theme  established 
solely  by  the  incidents  of  Opt's  experience,  emphasized 
obviously  only  by  the  comment  of  the  auditor  thereon  in 
par.  179.  This  puts  into  words  for  us  the  realization  of 
Opt's  guileless  and  generously  human  criminality  and  his 
complete  unawaredness  of  anything  either  romantic  or  ad- 
venturous in  his  life.  Well-managed  contrast  is  common, 
but  such  thoroughgoing  emphasis  of  the  anti-theme  is  not. 
As  here  used,  the  method  is  manifestly  successful. 

5.  Like  "  The  Defective,"  this  story,  though  setting 
itself  a  theme,  employs  much  ancillary  and  illustrative 
matter  that  supplements  (rather  than  establishes  the 
theme).  As  a  consequence,  like  "  The  Defective,"  it  may 
be  regarded  as  developing  a  motif  (S.  S.  M.,  96:  10),  not 
merely  establishing  a  theme. 

6.  This  story  offers  numerous  instances  of  skillful 
technique  in  making  details  contribute  to  immediate  or 
ultimate  motivation,  characterization,  emphasis,  perspec- 
tive, proportion,  atmosphere  creation,  and  the  like.  Often 
these  skillful  turns  are  so  subtle  or  inobvious  that  they  re- 
veal themselves  as  employments  of  technique  only  on  close 
analysis.  Examples  are  noted  in  several  places  in  the 
running  comment. 

7.  The  fact  that  this  story  is  managed  with  much  mas- 
tership in  technique,  especially  in  the  handling  of  details 
to  definite  purposes,  does  not  make  it  a  "  story  with  a  big 
punch."  It  "  gets  across,"  it  provokes  curiosity,  it  con- 
tains two  passages  with  a  thrill  of  suspense,  it  character- 
izes, and  it  presents  a  theme.     But  it  does  not  produce  a 


186  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

strong,  centered  dramatic  effect.  Because  of  its  unusual 
angle  of  narration  it  must  outline  rather  than  amplify, 
and  sketch  rather  than  intensify.  It  develops  its  motif 
and  establishes  its  theme,  but  the  theme  does  not  come  to 
us  with  stirring  emotional  appeal.  The  narrative  has  no 
intense  central  or  climactic  situation,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  its  structural  plot  (introd.  note  1)  does  not 
permit  one.  Its  impression-elements  have  to  be  dissipated 
rather  than  condensed  and  cumulated.  Measured  for  the 
moment,  therefore,  by  this  standard  only,  it  ranks  below 
"  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle,"  "  The  Love  of  Men,"  "  A  Eag- 
Time  Lady,"  "  The  Great  God,"  "  In  the  Matter  of  Dis- 
tance," "  The  Last  Rose,"  "  Tropics,"  and  others  in  our 
collection.  This  is  not  a  reflection  on  it,  however,  for  the 
story  accomplishes  what  it  was  planned  to  accomplish, 
which  in  this  case  requires  greater  skill  than  the  usual 
form  of  organization  might  demand.  To  attain  the  pur- 
pose of  strong  emotional  effect,  a  different  conception  and 
therefore  a  different  method  of  approach  and  presentation 
would  have  been  necessary ;  but  this  is  not  what  the  author 
aimed  at. 


A  QUIET  LIFE,  OR  LIFE  ON  THE  QUIET 
By  Herbert  C.  Test 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author,  from 

"Collier's  Weekly"  for  July   19,   1913. 

(Copyrighted  1913) 

1.  "  Good  evening,  Mr.  Opt." 

2.  Mrs.  Eoddy  extended  greeting  to  the  boarder  whose 
delayed  arrival  completed  our  roster  of  regular  diners. 
She  nodded  toward  the  one  empty  chair. 

3.  "  We  were  just  talking  about  burglars,"  she  stated. 

4.  Mr.  Opt  glanced  at  her  with  scrutinizing  interest. 


1.  Attention  is  immediately  directed  to  the  main  person.  The 
next  three  paragraphs  confirm  our  interest  in  Opt  as  created  by 
par.  1.  Pars.  3-4  put  the  subject  of  the  theme  and  nairative 
before  us,  and  connect  Mr.  Opt  with  it  at  once. 

1-20.  This  section  accomplishes  the  motivation  desired  for 
Opt's  seeking  out  the  narrator  and — presently — making  a  confidant 
of  him.  The  motivation  is  this :  Miss  Truax'  defense  of  burglars 
arouses  Mr.  Opt's  kindness,  and  the  discussion  as  a  whole  stirs 
his  personal-professional  feeling  on  the  subject.  He  goes  to  the 
narrator  to  make  him  agent  in  the  gift  of  the  ring,  and  so  yields 
to  his  desire  to  explain  his  philosophy  of  burgling  and  burglars. 
It  is  all  most  natural  (cf.  introductory  note  3).  The  excellence 
of  this  motivating  is  mainly  responsible  for  the  plausibility  of 
the  situation  that  is  developed  out  of  it.  S.  S.  M,,  90-92;  on 
motivation,  S.  S.  M.,  15,  96 :  11.  Refer,  however,  to  note  below 
(5-20)  and  observe  how  much  more  than  a  mere  framework  of 
motivating  action  the  movement  is  made  by  the  employment  of 
vivifying  material  and  contributory  narrational  processes,  such 
as  characterization  and  presentation  of  environment.  This  power 
to  realize  persons  and  actions  in  a  complete  set  of  manifestations 

187 


18S  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

5.  '^  I  was  just  saying,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  never 
felt  the  least  bit  afraid  of  'em  when  my  husband  was  alive. 
I  think  every  one  of  'em  ought  to  go  to  the  chair,"  she  con- 
tinued with  conviction.  "  Every  one !  There  is  too  much 
stealing  entirely !  " 

6.  Mrs.  Roddy  appeared  to  be  working  herself  up  to  a 
proper  condemnatory  attitude  to  do  the  subject  justice. 
She  glared  at  "  Doc  "  Spears  and  another  boarder,  who 
were  indulging  in  a  low-toned  discussion  of  coming  base- 
ball prospects.  Doc  Spears  halted  with  a  word  half  fin- 
ished. 

7.  "  Once  a  thief,  always  a  thief,"  she  quoted.  "  A 
young  man  who  doesn't  pay  his  honest  debts  when  they  are 
due  is  no  better." 

8.  Doc  Spears,  who  had  been  publicly  dunned  in  the 


and  relationships  produces  a  fnlhiess  of  conception  and  presen- 
tation that  constitutes  the  difference  between  stories  that  are 
merely  crudely  detailed  plot-abstracts  or  scenarios  and  stories 
that  are  masterly  made. 

5-20.  These  paragraphs  present  piecemeal  the  two  common 
views  the  unthinking  are  likely  to  express  about  thieves  and  their 
like.  Opt's  is  a  third  view — that  burglary  is  an  unromantic,  re- 
quiring, sort  of  business  pursuit.  Very  skillfully  the  story  weaves 
different  possible  views  of  the  "  profession  "  into  a  presentation 
that  distinctly  unifies  if  it  does  not  deepen  them.  This  is  one  way 
in  which  basic  facts  of  life  can  be  presented  and  life  itself 
interpreted.  Read  S.  S.  M.,  1 : 1-11.  Also  see  S.  S.  M.,  64 :  15-16 ; 
194 :  10-12 ;  256,  last  par. ;  257,  pars.  1  and  3 ;  46  :  8-13 ;  214 : 1-2. 
— Mingled  with  this  are  excellent  character  and  setting  hints. 
Several  boarding-house  types  are  briefly,  but  sufficiently,  indi- 
cated. Make  a  list  of  these,  and  catalogue  the  type-characteristics 
of  each.  Then  opposite  each  characteristic,  set  down  the  speeches 
and  acts  that  indicate  it. — Pars.  13-16  represent  two  general  traits 
frequently  met  with  in  women,  the  one  in  women  of  middle  age 
or  beyond,  the  other  in  younger  women  engaged  to  be  married. 
What  traits  are  they? 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  189 

front  hall  for  overdue  board,  appeared  to  grasp  an  inner 
meaning  in  the  rather  enigmatic  conclusion. 

9.  "  I  guess  they'd  have  to  work  the  electrocuters  on 
shifts  if  they  did,"  he  replied,  equally  cryptic. 

10.  Mrs.  Roddy  shifted  her  gaze  back  to  Mr.  Opt. 

11.  "  I'm  not  speaking  for  myself — that  is,  not  about 
the  burglars,"  she  declared.  "  Goodness  knows,  I've  noth- 
ing to  steal  now.  It's  mighty  different  from  when  Mr. 
Roddy  was  alive,"  she  finished  plaintively. 

12.  Miss  Bessie  Truax,  who  had  finished  her  dinner, 
sat  back  and  played  with  a  cluster  ring  on  the  third 
finger  of  her  left  hand.  "  Don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Roddy, 
that  some  poor  persons  are  driven  to  steal  by  misfor- 
tune ?  "  she  queried  with  deep  concern. 

13.  "  That  is  no  excuse — to  my  mind,"  Mrs.  Roddy  re- 
turned acidly.  "  'No  excuse  whatever !  You're  soon  going 
to  have  a  house  of  your  own  " — Miss  Truax  blushed — 
"  or  a  flat,"  she  added  pointedly.  "  You  wait  until  you 
get  away  from  a  homelike  place,  where  you're  taken  care 
of  like  a  mother  would ;  and  wait  until  you  have  to  tend 
to  locking  up  and  hear  noises  when  your  husband  is  out 
at  some  beer  saloon  with  you  alone  at  home.  You  just 
wait !  " 

14.  Miss  Bessie  Truax  seemed  crushed  for  a  moment 
over  this  picture  of  domestic  woe ;  then  she  rallied. 

15.  "  My  husband  " — she  faltered  and  blushed  more 
deeply — "  or,  at  least,  my  intended  husband,  doesn't 
drink,"  she  stated  positively.  "  And,  anyhow,  I  know  he 
wouldn't  leave  me  alone " 

16.  "Oho!"  Mrs.  Roddy  interrupted.  "You'll  find 
out!  "  She  appealed  to  her  entire  boarding  clientele. 
"  She'll  find  out,  won't  she  ?  "  she  demanded. 


190  Today's  Shokt  Stories  Analyzed 

17.  Miss  Bessie  Truax  refused  to  retreat. 

18.  "  Well,  anyhow,  I  believe  there  is  some  good  even 
in  burglars,"  she  insisted. 

19.  Mrs.  Roddy  appeared  about  to  explode  as  the  result 
of  the  defiant  stand  taken  by  Miss  Truax,  who  had  already 
placed  herself  outside  the  pale  of  consideration  by  serving 
notice  of  intention  to  vacate  her  room  to  enter  matrimony. 
She  appealed  directly  to  Mr.  Opt. 

20.  "  Some  good  in  burglars  ?  "  she  demanded  of  him. 
"  Mr.  Opt,  do  you  believe  that  there  can  be  any  good  in 
burglars  ?  " 

21.  Mr.  Opt  rose,  and  his  motions,  although  defer- 
ential, were  quick.  He  bobbed  a  timid  bow  and  started 
for  the  door. 

22.  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  murmured. 

23.  Mrs.  Roddy  glowered  down  an  incipient  titter 
started  among  her  charges.  She  ignored  the  complete 
failure  of  Mr.  Opt  to  rally  to  her  support. 

24.  "  There's  what  I  call  a  little  gentleman,"  she  told 
us.  '^  Comes  and  goes  as  quiet  as  a  mouse ;  always  speaks 
most  respectful,  and  never  complains  about  his  meals." 
She  paused  to  gather  together  more  virtues  of  Mr.  Opt 
to  be  vocally  catalogued. 


21.  Opt's  outward  timidity  is  repeatedly  brought  before  us.  On 
incongruity  (i.e.,  contrast)  as  a  means  of  producing  effect,  see 
S.  S.  M.,  223 :  10,  11.  On  the  principal  means  of  character  indi- 
cation employed  in  this  story,  see  S.  S.  M.,  227 :  14. 

24.  Attention  is  again  more  singly  centered  on  the  main  person 
by  this  speech.  It  also  serves  as  a  device  for  emphasizing  further 
the  contrast  between  Opt  as  he  appears  and  Opt  in  his  profes- 
sional character.     S.  S.  M.,  232:6;  214,  lines  10-12. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  191 

25.  "  What  does  old  Pussyfoot  do  for  a  living? ''  Doc 
Spears  inquired. 

26.  "  That  is  a  matter  that  is  less  the  business  of  any 
boarder  in  my  house  than  it  is  mine,"  Mrs.  Roddy  re- 
turned. "  And  /  never  inquire  into  anybody's  affairs — 
especially  when  they  pay  two  dollars  extra  a  week  for  a 
third-floor  back — and  pay  it,"  she  finished  pointedly. 

27.  Doc  Spears  was  unabashed.  ''  Maybe  he's  superin- 
tendent of  an  all-night  Sunday  school,"  he  suggested  im- 
pudently. "  I  usually  meet  him  going  out  at  night  when 
I  come  in — and  I  don't  often  blow  off  the  avenue  until 
the  bartenders  start  for  the  hay."  The  final  statement  was 
made  boastfully. 

28.  Mrs.  Roddy  rose  to  assist  in  serving  dessert. 

29.  "  Whatever  he  does,  lie  don't  spend  his  board 
money  for  booze,"  she  retorted. 

30.  Doc  Spears  gulped  his  pudding  and  started  toward 
the  hall  before  he  replied. 

31.  "  Booze !  "  he  jeered.  "  I'd  like  to  see  Opt  with 
a  little  jag.  I  can't  see  how  such  rabbits  as  him  get  along 
without  some  excitement  in  life.  Me  for  a  little  adven- 
ture once  in  a  while,"  he  declared  as  he  departed. 

32.  Mr.  Opt's  light,  double  tap  at  my  door  barely  drew 
my  attention  from  my  evening  studies.     He  opened  the 

25-31.  Doc  Spears  is  the  principal  foil  to  Opt  in  this  story; 
hence  the  bringing  of  him  forward  from  time  to  time.  See 
S.  S.  M.,  69.  In  one  sense,  all  the  boarding-house  group  are  a 
foil  to  Opt.  These  paragraphs  are  coneentrative  in  function  (S. 
S.  M.,  107-109).  Par.  27,  hinting  at  something  doubtful  in  Opt's 
behavior,  is  an  interest-tickler — one  of  the  devices  for  stimulating 
suspense. 

32.  •  Second  movement  begins.  (Note  that  the  first  movement 
consists  of  two  episodes.    How  is  it  with  the  other  movements?) — 


192  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

door  less  than  a  third  of  its  swing  and  sidled  into  the 
room.  I  noticed  that  he  closed  the  door  without  causing 
the  usual  click  of  the  latch.  His  progress  across  the  floor 
to  the  chair  to  which  I  invited  him  with  a  nod  was  abso- 
lutely noiseless.  He  avoided,  as  though  by  instinct,  a  loose 
floor  board  which  usually  squeaked  loudly  when  stepped 
on.  He  flashed  a  comprehensive  glance  around  the  room  ^ 
as  he  seated  himself  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the  chair.  "  I 
hope,  sir,  that  I  am  not  intruding,  sir  ?  "  he  questioned. 

33.  I  informed  him  that  I  was  glad  to  welcome  him  to 
my  humble  quarters.  He  refused  my  tender  of  my  own 
comfortable  rocker  and  waited  patiently  until  I  had  com- 
pleted the  usual  inane  sarcasms  concerning  boarding-house 
comforts.  "  Many  a  young  gentleman  has  been  forced  by 
circumstances  to  accept  worse,  sir,"  he  said  respectfully. 
He  passed  a  tiny  leather  box  from  one  hand  to  the  other.^ 

34.  "  I  hope,  sir,  that  I  am  not  presuming  in  coming 
to  you  for  a  favor,  sir,"  he  continued  without  waiting  for 
a  reply.  He  seemed  pleased  at  my  nod  of  encouragement. 
"  You  see,  sir,  it  is  a  rather  delicate  matter,  sir ;  one  that 


^  From  sentence  2  to  this  point,  the  details  are  selected  to  em- 
phasize Opt's  burglarious  character,  and  to  make  us  visualize 
him  in  it. 

33.  '  Observe  the  naturalness  with  which  a  characteristic  move- 
ment of  nervousness  is  made  to  bring  forward  the  next  phase  of 
the  action. 

34.  Beginning  here,  study  Opt's  conversation,  and  the  mental 
traits  that  it  represents.  Make  a  list  of  his  mannerisms  of 
(1)  speech  and  (2)  thinking. — Does  he  talk  like  a  person  unused 
to  much  converse?  Is  this  a  personal  or  a  class  trait?  (S.  S.  M., 
48-51,  20S-212).  If  a  class  trait,  is  it  consistent  and  well-chosen 
by  the  author?  How  are  his  defei'ential  manner,  his  frequent 
introduction  of  "  sir,"  and  his  mention  of  "  a  gentleman  "  (par. 
34)  to  be  accounted  for?    Cf.  par.  119. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  193 

I  could  hardly  ask  anyone  but  a  gentleman  to  undertake, 
sir " 

35.  He  stopped  and  held  out  the  little  box.  As  he  ex- 
tended it  toward  me  he  snapped  the  lid  open.  Inside  lay 
a  ring  set  with  a  small  but  perfect  diamond.  He  laid  the 
box  and  the  trinket  it  held  on  my  trunk,  which  was  doing 
duty  as  an  improvised  desk. 

36.  "  You  see,  sir,  she's  a  very  nice  young  lady,  sir — 
very  kindly;  aiid  very  sympathetic,  I  imagine,  sir.  I 
thought  I  might  be  permitted,  sir " 

37.  He  paused  again.  I  am  sure  that  my  face  revealed 
my  mental  perplexity.  The  faint  shadow  of  a  smile  flick- 
ered across  his  face. 

38.  "  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  apologized.  "  You  could 
hardly  know,  sir,  just  what  I  am  asking,  sir."  The  faint 
smile  appeared  again. 

39.  "  You  see,  sir,"  he  continued  rapidly,  "  I  wish 
to  leave  this  little  remembrance  to  Miss  Truax — Miss 
Bessie  Truax,  you  know,  sir;  the  young  lady  who  is 
about  to  be  married,  sir;  and  I  thought  maybe,  sir,  that 
you " 

40.  "  Why  don't  you  give  it  to  her,  then  ?  "  I  was  get- 
ting impatient. 

41.  "  Oh,  I  couldn't,  sir !  "  His  tone  expressed  a  mild 
horror.  "  I  couldn't  do  it  at  all,  sir."  He  became  pro- 
pitiatory.    "  You  see,  sir,  I — I — "     He  seemed  to  have 


37-38.  Is  Opt's  wit  as  erratic  as  his  speech?  Is  quick,  keen 
observation  one  of  his  attributes,  and  if  so,  what  other  passages 
indicate  it?     Is  it  a  personal  trait?     Cf.  par.  126. 

40.  Is  the  intrusion  of  the  narrator's  mood  disturbing?  Do  we 
get  too  much  of  it?     Is  this  sentence  necessary? 


194  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

evolved  au  idea  and  appeared  pleased.     "  You  see,  sir,  I 
am  going  away,  sir,  and " 

42.  This  time  I  did  not  have  to  express  my  thought. 
"  I'll  explain,  sir,"  he  said  hurriedly,  as  though  in  answer 
to  my  unspoken  query.  "  I'll  explain,  sir,  why  I  can't 
give  it  to  her  before  I  go  away,  sir.  You  see,  sir,  that  the 
young  lady  has  been  very,  very  good  to  me,  sir,  and  I  wish 
to  show  my  appreciation  of  her  kindness." 

43.  He  paused  as  though  to  correlate  his  ideas.  Again 
he  show^ed  uncanny  grasp  of  my  mental  processes.  I  had 
no  recollection  of  Miss  Truax  even  noticing  the  retiring 
Mr.  Opt  during  the  two  months  since  his  arrival  at  Mrs. 
Roddy's  and  had  intended  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  by  ask- 
ing for  information  regarding  the  form  of  kindness  dis- 
played by  the  young  lady. 

44.  "  Oh,  no,  sir ;  not  the  ordinary  sort  of  kindness  at 
all,  sir,"  he  interjected  hastily.  "  Not  at  all,  sir !  You 
see,  sir,  that  Miss  Truax  has  only  been  kindly  and  con- 
siderate of  everybody  in  the  house,  sir;  not  at  all  of  me, 
alone,  sir.     ]^ot  at  all,  sir." 

45.  My  impression  of  Miss  Truax  during  our  acquaint- 
ance at  Mrs.  Roddy's  had  hardly  led  me  to  believe  in  any 
transcendent  goodness  or  kindliness  in  that  young  lady. 
At  times  I  had  thought  her  a  bit  snippy.  I  said  so.  Mr. 
Opt  appeared  pained. 


43.    Cf.  note  on  34.    Also  on  37-38. 

44  ff.  Opt's  overestimate  (cf.  par.  206)  of  Miss  T's  kindliness 
includes  both  a  human  and  an  individual  suggestion  of  character. 
He  is  naturally  a  kindly  man ;  but  also  it  is  human  nature  to 
entertain  an  excessive  gratitude  toward  those  who  have  seemed 
considerate  when  everyone  else  is  hostile. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  195 

46.  "  Oh,  sir ;  I'm  so  sorry,  sir,"  be  complained.  "  I 
hoped  that  everyone  admired  her  as  I  do.  She  always 
seemed  to  me  to  be  so  ready  to  take  up  for  the  poor  and 
lowly,  sir.  Now  at  dinner  tonight,  sir.  When  she  took 
up  for  the  bur " 

47.  His  sudden  silence  made  me  glance  at  him  quickly. 
He  had  covered  his  lips  with  a  half-closed  hand  and  ap- 
peared frightened. 

48.  "  Are  you  interested  in  the  welfare  of  burglars  ?  " 
I  asked  sharply. 

49.  "  Well,  in  a  way,  sir,"  he  answered  quickly.  He 
seemed  distressed.  "  Just  in  a  way  sir.  You  see,  sir," 
he  hurried  on  as  though  to  cover  a  conversational  slip, 
"  I  just  used  that  as  an  illustration  of  her  desire  to  shield 
the  weak  and  erring.  You  see,  sir,  it  made  me  think  of 
my  wife " 

50.  "  Your  wife  ?  "  I  broke  in.  "  Are  you  *  married  ?  " 
I'm  afraid  my  smile  was  sardonic.  Mr.  Opt's  quick  gray 
eyes  took  flashing  notice.^ 


47.  The  act  is  thoroughly  consistent  with  the  person  and  situa- 
tion. See  S.  S.  M.,  208  G.  Pars.  46  and  47  are  interest-ticklers. 
With  48-49,  they  are  preparing  the  way  for  the  full  disclosure 
of  the  fact  that  Opt  is  a  burglar.  It  is  time  for  some  hint  that 
we  are  getting  ahead,  for  the  conversation  is  almost  ready  to 
drag.  On  the  naturalness  ultimately  resulting  from  this  slow 
approach  to  the  revelation  of  Opt's  career,  see  introd.  note  3. 
See  also  S.  S.  M.,  229:  2,  230;  4,  232:  6,  7,  8  (first  two  sentences). 

50.  Introduction  of  the  main  person  (next  to  Opt)  in  the  ancil- 
lary, or  story-within-story,  plot. — Observe  how  new  impulse  is 
given  to  the  narrative,  just  when  it  threatened  to  lag,  by  mention 
of  the  wife. — The  device  occurs  elsewhere. — '  Cf.  par.  24  and 
S.  S.  M.,  223:10-224:12.  Opt's  physique  is  as  incongruous  (su- 
perficially) with  his  profession  and  career,  as  are  his  boarding- 
house  existence  and  his  timidity.  The  story  draws  much  of  its 
thematic  effectiveness  from  contrast. — "  Cf.  37-38,  note. 


1!>()  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

51.  "  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  he  answered.  "  Yes,  sir.  Didn't 
I  mention  her  before  ?  In  Chicago,  sir.  The  dearest  and 
sweetest  woman  in  the  world,  sir.  I  have  her  picture  here, 
sir." 

52.  He  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  but  I  waved  aside  his 
proffer  of  the  picture.  I  was  becoming  puzzled.  "  Go  on, 
please,"  I  requested.  "  Tell  me  what  you  wish."  He 
seemed  relieved. 

53.  "  You  see,  it's  like  this,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Miss 
Truax  is  about  to  be  married,  sir.  The  young  man,  I  take 
it,  sir,  is  worthy  but  poor,  sir.  Wait  just  a  moment, 
please,"  he  pleaded  to  halt  my  intended  comment.  "  You 
see,  sir,  that  the  ring — that  is,  her  engagement  ring — is 
plated,  sir  " — he  seemed  horrified — :"  merely  plated,  sir. 
I've  seen  it  often.  And  the  stones,  sir  " — he  twitched  his 
hands  as  though  in  pain — "  the  stones,  sir,  are  merest 
imitation,  sir.  I  thought,  sir,"  he  went  on,  "  that  perhaps 
you  might — oh,  dear  sir !  I'm  so  sorry  that  you  don't  like 
her,  sir — that  you  might  give  her  this  little  ring  in 
place " 

54.  "  Are  you  sure  your  wife "  I  started  the  wit- 
less prod  and  stopped — ashamed. 

55.  "  Oh,  my  wife  would  approve — entirely,  sir.  I 
have  written  to  her,  sir.    She  is  greatly  pleased.   I  thought 


51.  A  characterizing  speech.  Observe  here  as  elsewhere  the  con- 
trast element.  If  Opt  were  the  conventional  burglar  of  fiction, 
such  a  speech  would  be  out  of  keeping;  but  he  is  neither  a  Bill 
Sykes  nor  a  Raffles.  And  how  human  that  impulse  to  show  her 
picture!  (Watch  for  other  passages  effective  in  winning  our 
liking  for  the  little  man). 

53.  We  are  skirting  the  edge  of  improbability  here.  Observe 
how  the  next  four  paragraphs  make  the  idea  plausible.  S.  S.  M., 
90 :  9-10. 


A  Quiet  Life  oe  Life  on  the  Quiet  197 

I  told  you  that,  sir."  The  man's  misery  was  apparent. 
"  I  hoped,  sir,  that  you  could  suggest  some  way,  sir " 

56.  I  was  glad  to  rush  to  cover.  I  felt  a  sudden  fear 
that  he  might  break  into  tears.     I  spoke  heartily. 

57.  "  Why,  Opt,  old  scout,  it's  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world,"  I  said.  "  I  know  the  young  buck  she's  about  to 
marry.  Lie's  a  clerk  in  a  store  downtown.  Very  decent 
chap.  Suppose  I  just  slip  him  the  ring  and  let  him  make 
the  change?  I'll  say  it's  from  the  boarders  here  if  you 
don't  want  the  credit.  He'll  be  tickled  to  death.  He's 
scraping  every  cent  for  furniture.  Do  you  suppose  you 
can  trust  me  with  it  ?  " 

ic  58.  Mr.  Opt  went  into  extremely  subdued  paroxysms 
of  joy.  He  grabbed  the  little  case,  snapped  the  lid  shut, 
and  pressed  it  into  my  hands,  holding  it  there  with  both 
of  his,  as  though  fearful  that  I  might  withdraw  my  offer 
of  service.  "  Thank  you,  sir !  Thank  you  a  thousand 
times,  sir !  "  he  exulted.  ''  A  wonderful  plan,  sir — won- 
derful.    Let  me  thank  you  again,  sir." 

59.  Mr.  Opt  started  toward  the  door,  still  in  that  glid- 
ing, noiseless  fashion.     He  stopped  with  his  hand  on  the 


58,  Another  manifestation  of  the  real  Mr.  Opt,  who  is  quite 
unlike  the  Mr.  Opt  that  Mrs.  Roddy  and  Doe  Spears  thought  him. 
A  well-conceived  character  for  such  a  situation  (S.  S.  M.,  217:  4) 
could  not  plausibly  lack  positive  qualities.  Opt  is  tempera- 
mentally impulsive  (the  notion  of  the  ring,  the  sacrifice  of  him- 
self in  place  of  the  maid,  his  hel^Ding  with  the  sick  baby),  and 
he  has  nerve  and  resource  and  force. 

59.  Third  movement  begins.  We  now  approach  that  part  of 
the  narrative  in  which  the  episodes  of  Opt's  past  appear — the 
story  within  the  sketch.  But  even  yet  we  are  not  ready  for  it. 
The  consummation  of  the  motivation  for  Opt's  disclosures  has  to 
be  brought  on,  in  the  evening-study  by  the  narrator  of  his  cor- 


198  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

knob  and  looked  back  at  me  wistfully.  I  decided  that  the 
man  was  lonely  and  felt  a  twinge  of  sympathy. 

60.  "  Don't  hurry,  Opt,"  I  said.  "  Come  back  and  sit 
down  until  I  finish  a  little  work  here  and  we'll  drift  down 
to  the  corner  for  a  glass  of  beer." 

Gl.  He  came  back  and  again  seated  himself  on  the  for- 
ward edge  of  the  chair.  "  Thank  you  very  kindly, 
sir,"  he  murmured,  "  I  will  be  very  glad  to  accept,  sir. 
I  suppose  you  don't  mind,  sir,  if  I  take  ginger 
ale?" 

62.  The  man's  abject  humility  of  words  and  manner 
was  too  ludicrous  for  adequate  description.  Despite  my 
sense  of  the  demands  of  hospitality,  I  was  forced  to  laugh. 
"  Opt,  you're  a  funny  card,"  I  chuckled  shamelessly  be- 
tween guffaws. 

63.  Mr.  Opt  did  not  seem  to  mind.  He  even  smiled 
as  his  eyes  met  mine.  "  It's  the  ginger  ale  amuses  you, 
I  suppose,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  have  to  be  very  careful  of 
my  nerves,  sir — not  that  a  drink  now  and  then  isn't  all 
right  for  a  healthy  young  man,  sir,"  he  finished  with  the 
old  note  of  apology  in  his  voice. 

64.  I  fell  to  work  with  a  great  rustling  of  papers,  but 
seemed  unable  to  accomplish  anything.  I  felt  impelled 
to  glance  at  my  guest  every  few  minutes,  and  found  each 
time  that  he  was  watching  me  with  his  keen  eyes.  Then 
I  caught  a  yearning  look,  as  though  he  repressed  a  ques- 


respondenee-school  bookkeeping. — In  the  course  of  this  prepara- 
tion (par.  65)  occurs  a  subtle  touch  of  class  characterization.  To 
persons  unaccustomed  to  literai-y  employments  or  studious  effort, 
any  form  of  study  is  mysterious,  and  vagnely  associates  itself 
with  literature — "  he  writes,  or  something."  Opt's  question  is  the 
outcome  of  just  such  a  vague  notion  of  study.  It  appears  again 
in   par.   72. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  199 

tion  or  request  with  difficulty,  and  stopped.  I  leaned  back 
and  lighted  a  cigarette.  "  I  guess  that  will  hold  me  for 
tonight,"  I  remarked. 

65.  Mr.  Opt  brightened.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he 
said  timidly,  "  but  you  write,  do  you  not,  sir  ?  "  The 
question  surprised  me  and  I  suppose  I  showed  it.  "  I 
mean  you  write  for  the  newspapers,  or  books,  or  some- 
thing," he  explained. 

66.  I  grinned  as  I  denied  the  impeachment,  and  in- 
formed him  that  I  had  no  literary  aspirations.  "  I'm  a 
shipping  clerk,  and  this  toil  with  pen  and  paper,  wdiich 
may  resemble  the  outward  and  visible  effort  of  budding 
creative  genius,  is,  instead,  the  mark  of  labor  devoted  to 
acquisition  of  knowledge  and  practice  of  bookkeeping, 
under  the  tutelage  of  a  correspondence  school,"  I  told  him 
half  jocularly. 

67.  I  was  a  bit  proud  of  my  rhetorical  flight.  Mr. 
Opt,  however,  seemed  chagrined.  "  I'm  sorry  for  my 
mistake,  sir,"  he  said  humbly.  "  Very  sorry,  indeed,  sir. 
I  rather  hoped " 

68.  "  Perhaps  I  can  help  you,"  I  interrupted.  "  If 
you  wish  some  ground  and  lofty  writing  performed  maybe 
I  can  do  it  for  you." 

69.  Mr.  Opt  again  smiled  his  tiny  smile. 

TO.  "  Oh,  no,  sir !  "  he  declared.  "  It's  nothing  at  all, 
sir." 


66.  An  example  of  the  shade  too  much  of  the  narrator  that 
appears  elsewhere  also  in  the  story.  It  is  good  enough,  but  not 
essential.  The  narrator  is  useful  in  this  story  for  but  one  thing — 
to  tell  us  about  Opt.  Therefore,  the  less  he  intrudes  in  person, 
the  better.  S.  S.  M.,  191 :  5 ;  107  :  30 ;  232  :  6 ;  80  :  3,  and  Genung, 
Practical  Els.  of  Rhetoric,  "  Economy."     Cf .  par.  40. 


200  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

71.  We  wate'licd  each  other  closely  for  a  inonieiit,  with- 
out speaking.  Then  Mr.  Opt  leaned  forward.  His  air 
was  most  confidential. 

72.  "  It's  how,  sir,"  he  began  oddly.  "  It's  how,  sir, 
somehow^  I  got  the  idea  that  you  was  a  writer — a  paper 
writer,  or  a  hook  w^riter,  sir." 

73.  He  pulled  his  chair  a  few  inches  closer  and  low- 
ered his  voice. 

74.  "  You  see,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  if  you  wei-e  a 
writer,  sir,  I  thought  maybe  I  could  tell  you  something 
that  you  could  write,  sir;  something  that  would  be  inter- 
esting, sir,  and  at  the  same  time  correct  some  great  mis- 
takes, sir." 

75.  He  "  hunched "  his  chair  forward  another  few 
inches.  He  scanned  my  face  eagerly,  as  though  seeking 
some  ray  of  hope  for  a  cherished  project.  My  curiosity 
overcame  any  scruples  I  might  have  possessed. 

76.  "  I  have  a  number  of  friends  in  the  writing  busi- 
ness," I  lied  glibly.  "  Tell  me  your  tale  and  I'll  pass 
it  on." 

77.  "  Would  you,  sir  ?  "  he  begged.  "  It  would  be  a 
great  favor,  sir." 

78.  "  It's  about  burglars,  sir,"  he  rushed  on.   I  started. 

79.  "  Oh,  nothing  wrong,  I  assure  you,  sir !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Nothing  that  would  harm  your  friends'  papers, 
sir. 

80.  "  You  see,  it's  like  this,  sir.  I  read  a  great  deal, 
sir — on  the  trains  and  the  like,  sir.     And  I've  been  read- 


73,  75,  78,  80,  82,  85.  Cf.  first  three  sentences  of  note  on  1-20.— 
Note  the  steady  climax  in  Opt's  excitement,  and  its  value  as  an 
interest  intensifier  and  suspense  producer.  S.  S.  M,,  108  :32-33 ; 
112:39;  249,  bottom. 


A  Quiet  Life  ok  Life  on  the  Quiet  201 

iiig  a  lot  lately,  sir,  about  burglars,  sir."  He  showed  signs 
of  suppressed  excitement.  "  And  they  are  all  so  very 
wrong,  sir — so  very  wrong!  " 

81.  "How  wrong?"  I  demanded,  careless  of  form  in 
my  desire  to  keep  Mr.  Opt  on  the  leading  thread  of  his 
story. 

82.  "  That's  exactly  what  I  am  about  to  explain,  sir," 
he  went  on.  "  Exactly,  sir."  lie  gestured  with  his  hands, 
which  were  slim  and  showed  delicate  blue  veins.  "  It's 
about  the  stories  of  burglars,  sir." 

83.  I  decided  to  cease  my  interruptions,  which  seemed 
only  to  muddle  my  guest.  "  Go  on,"  I  instructed  as  I 
leaned  back  in  my  chair, 

84.  "  You  see,  sir,"  he  said,  "  the  young  gentlemen — 
and  young  ladies — who  write  about  burglars,  don't  seem, 
sir,  to  know  anything  about  burglars,  sir — nothing  what- 
ever, sir.     I  can  tell  it  from  their  writings,  sir." 

85.  His  earnestness  increased.  "  In  the  stories  I  read, 
sir,  it  seems,  sir,  that  burglars  were  either  the  lowest  sort 
of  rascals — murderers,  sir — or  else  they  were  heroes,  sir 
— willing  to  be  arrested,  sir;  or  shot,  sir,  to  save  the 
ladies,  sir.  You  may  know  what  I  mean,  sir  ?  "  he  ques- 
tioned, glancing  over  his  shoulder  as  though  fearing  eaves- 
dropping.    "  I  read  a  story,  sir,  where  a  burglar  allowed 


85.  Fourth  movement  begins,  taking  up  at  last  the  broken  tale 
of  Opt's  past.  Observe  that  we  have  a  thorough  preparation  now 
to  understand  this  histoiy;  the  preceding  three  movements  have 
gradually  created  a  baekgi'ound  and  perspective  for  it  by  pro- 
viding us  with  a  setting  for  Opt  with  effective  characterization 
of  him  (but  incomplete;  S.  S.  M.,  163:18),  and  with  a  basic 
exposition  of  the  theme  which  is  now  to  be  developed  through 
Opt's  narrative.     Here  cf.  introd.  note  4. 


202  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

himself  to  be  shot  just  to  give  the  lady's  lover  a  chance  to 
get  away,  sir.     He  was  shot  by  the  master,  sir." 

86.  "  Did  the  old  man  tumble  ?  "  I  burst  in,  unable  to 
control  my  curiosity  over  the  outcome  of  the  fictional 
drama  of  high  life. 

87.  "  Oh,  no,  sir !  I  suppose  you  mean  was  the  lady's 
indiscretion  discovered,  sir?  Not  at  all,  sir — at  least  not 
in  the  story,  sir,"  he  qualified. 

88.  ''  But  that  isn't  it,  sir,"  he  continued.  "  That 
isn't  it.  What  I  object  to,  sir,  is  writing  about  things  that 
never  could  occur  to  a  burglar,  sir.  It  gives  people  like 
Mrs.  Roddy  an  entirely  wrong  estimate  of  burglars,  sir." 

89.  His  last  sentence  had  the  solemnity  of  an  indict- 
ment. I  decided  on  an  attempt  to  wonn  out  a  definite 
expression  of  the  views  of  my  odd  guest. 

90.  "  Look  here,  Mr.  Opt,"  I  demanded.  "  What  are 
you  getting  at  ?  That  there  is  no  romance  in  a  burglar's 
life  ?    Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

87.  S.  S.M.,  182:6  (sents.  1-2).  The  author's  conception  of 
the  character  and  personality  of  Opt  is  corajDlete,  consistent,  and 
detailed.  Note  Opt's  language  here — a  delightfully  unconscious 
parroting  of  one  type  of  those  crook-hero  stories  he  confesses  to 
having  read  freely,  and  condemns  as  false  to  fact.  The  con- 
sistency^ goes  further;  Opt  not  only  talks  like  a  conventional  hero- 
thief  because  he  has  read  crook  romances,  but  also  he  talks  unlike 
conventional  crooks  because  he  uses  none  of  the  crook  cant,  found 
in  the  other  class  of  crook  stories.  It  is  the  rank  outsider,  the 
shipping-c'.erk,  who  shows  that  tendency.  In  brief,  the  author 
has  conceived  his  central  person  with  extreme  clearness,  and 
made  him  consistent  to  the  last  detail — a  thoroughly  indi- 
vidualized person.  See  S.  S.  M.,  208-212;  90:9-14;  and  index 
(Character,  Characterization)  passim. 

89.  Human  nature;  an  able  man  in  any  calling  is  jealous  of  its 
reputation.  Incidentally,  the  paragraph  may  cause  us  to  reflect 
on  the  ease  with  which  environment  affects  our  ethical  standards. 
Cf.  par.  94. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  203 

91.  The  man's  face  was  transfigured  as  though  with 
inner  joy.  "  That's  the  word,  sir — romance,  sir,"  he  said 
happily.  "  That's  exactly  what  I  was  trying  to  say,  sir. 
I  wish  to  make  it  plain  that  there  is — positively — no  ro- 
mance in  the  life  of  a  burglar,  sir ;  simply  hard  work,  sir ; 
hard  work  and  great  nervous  strain,  sir." 

92.  I  will  admit  a  certain  feeling  of  apprehension  that 
was  rather  increased  than  allayed  by  Mr.  Opt's  little  smile. 
Possibility  that  the  man  might  be  a  little  insane  flashed 
through  my  mind.  I  recollected  his  promised  acceptance 
of  my  earlier  invitation  and  ventured  to  renew  it. 

93.  "  How  about  that  little  drink,  Opt  ? "  I  inter- 
rupted. 

94.  "  Oh,  please,  sir !  "  he  begged.  "  Just  a  few  mo- 
ments. Just  while  I  explain — explain  so  that  you  can 
make  it  plain  to  your  writer  friends  that  burglars  as  a 
class  have  been  greatly  maligned — maligned  is  the  word, 
I  believe  ?  That  they  are  hard-working  men  with  no  ro- 
mance in  their  lives,  sir.     Kone  at  all,  sir." 

95.  I  could  not  resist  his  plea,  but  decided  to  end  our 
little  confab  as  soon  as  possible.  "  All  right,  Mr.  Opt,"  I 
said  rather  briskly.  "  I  can't  see  where  your  theory  of 
hard  work  and  lack  of  romance  in  a  burglar's  life  is  of 
great  interest  to  a  busy  world,  but  I  have  no  objection  to 
hearing  you  out."  I  was  struck  with  a  new  idea.  "  By 
the  way,  Opt,"  I  queried,  "  how  do  you  come  to  know  so 
much  about  burglars  ?  " 

96.  Mr.  Opt  looked  at  me  solemnly.  "  Why  shouldn't 
I  know  all  about  burglars,  sir  ?  "  he  questioned  simply. 


91.    Opt's  view  is  at  last  worded  definitely.    Cf.  note  5-20. 
96.    Motivated  skillfully.     Doubt  seems  to  be  thrown  on  Opt's 
qualification  to  speak  with  authority  on  the  matter  that  evidently 


'204:  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

"  Why  shouldn't  a  man  know  about  his  own  business, 
sir?" 

97.  I  was  too  startled  to  speak,  but  my  involuntary 
jump  seemed  to  enlighten  my  guest. 

98.  "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  apologized.  "  Please  ex- 
cuse me.  I  believed  I  had  told  you  that  I  w^as  a  burglar, 
sir.  It  must  be  my  failing  memory,  sir.  Yes,  sir;  I've 
followed  the  profession  for  twenty  years,  sir.  ISTearly  half 
my  life,  sir.  And  I  never  had  w^hat  you  might  call  an 
adventure  in  my  life,  sir." 

99.  I  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  my  stare  at  the  self- 
confessed  criminal  who  was  my  guest.  I  took  time  to 
examine  his  slight  frame ;  the  delicate  hands,  hardly  larger 
than  a  girl's,  the  thinning  hair  and  stooped  shoulders  that 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  superannuated  clerk  or 
bookkeeper.  I  compared  him  mentally  with  the  generally 
accepted  idea  of  the  low-browed,  thuggish,  murderous  in- 
vader of  homes.     I  felt  inclined  to  laugh. 

100.  "  Don't  you  think  you're  taking  a  long  chance  in 
giving  yourself  away  to  me  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

101.  Mr.  Opt  showed  no  sign  of  disquietude.  "  Oh, 
no,  sir,"  he  returned  calmly.  "  You're  a  gentleman,  sir. 
I  could  see  you  were  a  gentleman  right  away,  sir.    I  knew 

has  given  him  long  concern.  Human  nature,  class  feeling,  and  the 
judgment  of  men  that  he  has  developed  (pars.  100-101),  unite 
to  produce  the  disclosure  that  proves  he  knows  what  he  is  talking 
about.  This  story  presents  several  instances  of  such  keen,  shrewd, 
natural  motivation  (see  S.  S.  M.,  90:9-92).  Hence  its  increased 
plausibility  upon  study. 

99.  A  paragraph  of  eoncentrative  description,  serving  to  em- 
phasize Opt's  disclosure  (retarded  movement)  and  to  renew  our 
sense  of  the  contrast  between  him  and  his  occupation,  or  at  least, 
between  him  and  the  conventional  burglar  "  types." 


A  Quiet  Life  oe  Life  on  the  Quiet         205 

you  would  treat  anything  I  told  you  as  strictly  confiden- 
tial, sir.  I  have  been  very  close  to  gentlemen  in  my  life, 
sir.  I  never  make  a  mistake  in  picking  a  gentleman,"  he 
finished  with  no  apparent  attempt  at  flattery. 

102.  He  dismissed  the  point  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 
"  Now  about  burglars,  sir,"  he  resumed. 

103.  "  How  did  you  come  to  take  up  burgling  for  a 
living  ?  "  I  broke  in. 

104.  Mr.  Opt  evidently  resented  the  interruption  but 
was  unable  to  combat  his  desire  to  please. 

105.  "  It  was  the  prison,  sir.  That's  it,  sir.  After 
the  prison  it  seemed  that  there  was  nothing  else  I  could 
do,  sir." 

106.  '"You!     In  prison?"  I  demanded. 

107.  "  Oh,  yes,  sir.  I  was  in  prison,  sir.  Two  years, 
sir.  I  suppose  I  should  have  told  you  right  away,  sir." 
He  bowed  his  head. 

108.  "  Did  they  catch  you  burgling?  "  I  queried. 

109.  "  Oh,  sir,  no !  "  he  insisted.     "  Not  at  all,  sir." 


104.  A  detail  fundamentally  true  to  the  conception  of  Opt's 
charactei".  On  impulse  Opt  is  resolute  and  nervy;  likewise,  any 
conduct  he  has  become  accustomed  to  he  continues  from  habit, 
with  no  sense  of  its  true  quality — for  example,  robbing.  But  there 
is  also  a  strain  of  weakness  in  him,  that  prevents  him  from 
resisting  pressure  except  on  impulse  or  through  the  momentum 
of  habit.  Accordingly,  he  yields  to  all  these  confusing  interrup- 
tions; in  the  same  way,  he  yielded  under  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances when  he  became  a  burglar.  The  criminal  character  always 
has  a  defect  like  this,  sufficient  to  offset  the  qualities  of  positive 
strength.  Opt,  therefore,  is  an  individual  burglar  true  never- 
theless to  the  class  character. 

109.  Find  other  instances  of  a  suppressed  sense  of  humor  in 
Opt. — The  detail  is  true  to  the  general  conception.  As  there  is  "no 
romance  "  in  burglary,  there  can  be  no  tragedy  in  it ;  life  merely 
played  something  of  a  joke  on  him  by  making  him  a  burglar. 


20G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

He  smiled  quizzically.     "  I  really  hadn't  done  anything, 
sir." 

110.  "  Well  in  the  name  of  Peter  Cook!  "  I  exclaimed. 
I  felt  a  deep  desire  to  grab  Mr.  Opt's  story  by  its  meta- 
phorical tail  and  drag  it  from  the  hole  of  his  past.  I  got 
no  further. 

111.  "  It  was  nothing,  sir,"  Mr.  Opt  broke  in.  "  I 
don't  blame  the  master,  sir.  ISTot  at  all,  sir.  He  could 
hardly  do  anything  else,  sir.  It  was  either  I  or  Florette, 
sir.     Either  she  or  I,  sir." 

112.  ''  Florette !  "  I  grabbed  at  the  new  point.  "  Who 
the  blazes  is  Florette  ?  " 

113.  "Florette?"  he  repeated  after  me.  "Oh,  of 
course  you  could  not  have  known,  sir,  that  Florette  was 
the  second  maid,  sir." 

114.  My  patience  was  waning.  I  stood  up,  then  paced 
across  the  room  and  back.    Mr.  Opt  did  not  raise  his  eyes. 

115.  "  Xow  look  here.  Opt,"  I  insisted  when  I  was 
seated  again.     "  Let's  get  this  thing  straightened  out  be- 


lli this,  the  weak  side  of  his  character  appears,  as  well  as  that 
quality  of  his  disposition  which  has  led  him  to  accept  things  as 
they  come,  without  enough  struggle  against  them  to  embitter 
life.  (Observe  too  that  this  is  a  quality  quite  likely  to  exist 
in  many  members  of  the  serving  class ;  Opt  was  a  "  gentleman's 
man.") 

111.  The  author  turns  to  account  Opt's  way  of  plumping  out 
unexpected  facts  by  making  it  give  prominence  to  Florette  (note 
the  romantic  name!).  It  is  necessary  for  us  to  have  the  feeling  of 
Florette's  part  in  the  Opt  drama,  yet  she  can  be  scarcely  more 
than  mentioned.  To  introduce  her  thus  emphatically  arouses  our 
curiosity  about  her  and  increases  our  sense  of  her  importance  in 
the  history. — The  conventional  crook  story  of  love  and  sentiment 
are  present  in  Opt's  narrative — the  gentleman's  man,  in  love  with 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Li-fe  on  the  Quiet  207 

fore  I  begin  to  see  pink  things  with  green  wings.  If  I 
understand  this,  you  are  trying  to  convince  me  that  the 
ordinary  burglar  is  just  a  common  run  of  man  with  a 
trade  that  has  neither  romance  nor  adventure.  He  is 
neither  a  Raffles  nor  a  yegg.  And  you  are  trying  to  prove 
it  with  your  own  story !     Am  I  right  ?  " 

116.  "  Yes,  sir,"  Mr.  Opt  answered.  "  I  think  I  fol- 
low you.     You  see,  sir " 

117.  "  ISTow  go  to  it !  "  I  ordered.  "  Tell  the  history  of 
your  life.  Begin  with  Florette  and  the  master  and  any- 
thing else  concerned  in  your  trip  to  the  jug." 

118.  Mr.  Opt  nodded  his  acquiescence.  "  I  will,  sir," 
he  said. 

119.  "  You  see,  sir,  Florette  was  the  second  maid,  as 
I  told  you.  I  was  a  gentleman's  man,  sir;  attended  the 
master,  sir,  when  the  brooch  was  taken " 

120.  "  What  brooch  ?  "  I  interrupted. 

121.  "  Oh,  the  mistress's  brooch,  sir,"  he  explained. 
"  You  see,  sir,  Florette  was  tempted  beyond  endurance, 
sir.     It  was  too  much  for  her. 

122.  "  She  might  have  returned  it,  sir,"  he  insisted 
hurriedly.  "  I  am  sure  she  would  have  returned  it.  But 
you  see  the  mistress  discovered  that  it  was  gone  and  there 
was  an  awful  go,  sir — an  awful  go.  When  we  were  all 
put  in  the  dining  room  to  be  searched  by  the  police  there 
was  no  chance,  sir.     She  had  it  in  her  apron  pocket,  sir." 

the  second  maid;  she  yields  to  temptation,  and  to  save  her  the 
gentleman's  man  assumes  guilt.  Later  there  appears  the  hounded- 
by-police  motif,  to  account  for  criminal  career,  with  the  bur- 
glar-saving-sick-child situation.  The  difference  between  this  story 
and  the  conventional  one  is  the  extremely  skillful  use  made  of 
these  materials  by  the  author  and  the  originality  he  shows  in 
organizing  them  for  presentation. 


208  Today's  Short  -Stories  Analyzed 

123.  "  Who  had  it  in  whose  apron  pocket?"  I  asked 
the  clumsy  question  with  a  sarcasm  that  was  lost  on  Mr. 
Opt. 

124.  "  Florctte,  sir.  I  thought  I  told  you,  sir.  They 
w^ould  have  found  it  in  a  moment,  sir.  As  it  was,  I  had 
trouble  convincing  them,  sir." 

125.  "  Convincing  them  of  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

126.  "  Convincing  them  that  I  took  it,  sir,"  he  replied 
with  apparent  surprise.  "  You  see,  I  had  to  tell  them  that 
I  dropped  it  in  her  pocket,  and  they  seemed  to  doubt  me, 
sir.  You  see,  I  had  seen  her  grab  the  pocket  in  her  fright, 
sir." 

127.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me.  Opt,  that  you  confessed 
to  stealing  and  went  to  prison  to  save  a  thieving  maid  ?  " 
I  demanded.  I  guess  there  was  contempt  in  my  voice. 
Mr.  Opt  became  earnest. 

128.  "Oh,  she  wasn't  exactly  a  thieving  maid,  sir — 
not  at  all,  sir.  Just  a  girl,  sir ;  a  mere  child,  sir ;  tempted 
for  a  moment,  as  we  might  say,  sir.  It  would  have  been 
terrible  for  her — the  prison,  I  mean,  sir.  Since  w^e  were 
married,  sir " 

129.  "  Wait,  Opt !  "  I  was  in  a  maze.  "  Is  Florette 
your  wife  ?  " 

130.  "  Yes,  sir,"  he  returned.    "  Yes,  sir.    I  loved  her. 


126.  "  With  apparent  surprise "  because  Opt's  is  a  one-rut 
mind ;  he  sees  only  one  of  the  several  possibilities  in  any  situation, 
and  that  thing  therefore  appears  to  him  perfectly  obvious.  His 
impulses  being  generous,  he  thinks  that  there  is  nothing  remark- 
able about  taking  the  guilt;  it  was  the  only  thing  that  could  be 
done.     He  does  not  realize  that  he  was  a  "  hero." 

130.  Yet  Opt  thinks  there  is  no  romance  in  his  career!  In  par, 
131,  the  author  emphasizes  this  impression  of  the  reader's  by 
putting  it  into  words. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  209 

You  see,  she  waited  for  me.  We  were  married  the  day  I 
came  out  of  prison,  sir.  I  didn't  tell  you  that  my  wife 
was  Florette,  did  I,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  as  though  apologizing 
for  an  omission. 

131.  I  felt  a  sudden  admiration  for  the  little  man  who 
told  me  his  story  of  heroism  so  simply.  "  Well,  for  a  man 
who  is  using  his  life  story  to  prove  that  romance  is  dead 
you  are  making  a  good  start,"  I  ventured.  "  What  hap- 
pened when  you  came  out  ?  " 

132.  "  Well,  you  see,  sir,  I  had  no  character  and  it  was 
impossible  to  get  a  place,  sir.  Really  impossible,  sir.  I 
tried  everything,  sir.  Worked  with  a  pick  in  the  street, 
sir;  and  on  the  railroad,  sir.  We  might  have  made  out 
but  for  the  baby,  sir." 

133.  "  The  baby  ?  "  I  decided  to  miss  no  details. 

134.  "Yes,  sir;  our  boy,  sir.  He's  in  college  now, 
sir,"  he  said  proudly.  "  The  mother  was  very  sick,  sir. 
A  long  time,  sir.  It  took  all  our  little  savings,  sir — the 
illness  did,  sir — that  and  the  car  fare,  sir." 

135.  "  Car  fare  ?  "  I  asked.  I  had  discovered  that  I 
could  sidetrack  the  little  man  with  the  most  laconic  query. 

131  ff.  Observe  that,  were  all  Opt's  career  put  into  a  narrative 
by  itself,  we  should  have  a  tale,  not  a  eonte  (S.  S.  M.,  8-23).  Its 
two  leading  divisions  would  provide,  separately,  situations  for 
two  contes. 

133  ff.  The  domestic  side  of  Opt's  life  affords  further  contrast 
with  its  romance  of  crookery.  The  generous  and  "  human  "  quali- 
ties of  him  and  his  wife  are  doubly  useful  in  the  story :  they  pre- 
serve the  conventions  of  the  interesting  crook  hero  and  heroine 
types  and  win  our  kindly  favor  for  Opt  and  Florette,  thus  con- 
tributing to  emotional  appeal  (S.  S.  M.,  57:  6,  63: 14).  There  is 
a  climax  of  this  sort  of  appeal  extending  to  par.  148,  and  it 
appears  in  other  paragraphs  further  on.     (Pick  them  out.) 


210  Today's  Short  Stoeies  Analyzed 

130.  "  Yes,  sir.  He  was  but  a  lad,  sir.  It  was  a  boy 
I  met  in  prison,  sir.  A  splendid  lad,  sir.  You  see,  he 
was  sick,  sir — sick  and  broken-hearted,  sir.  He  was  a 
victim  of  the  police,  sir.  They  would  soon  have  made  a 
bad  man  of  him,  sir.  He  could  not  escape  from  them. 
You  see,  he  struck  the  son  of  a  big  politician  for  insult- 
ing a  girl,  sir.  He  was  the  son  of  a  widow  and  had  no 
friends,  sir.  He  was  sentenced  to  a  year  and  placed  with 
the  worst  criminals  in  the  prison,  sir.  When  he  got  out 
the  police  had  orders  to  hound  him  on  every  occasion.  We 
felt  sorry  for  him,  sir." 

137.  "  What  did  you  do  ?  "  I  inquired. 

138.  "  We  gave  him  enough  money  to  go  West,  sir. 
Only  a  few  dollars,  but  it  was  all  we  had,  sir." 

139.  "  That  left  you  broke?  "  I  ventured. 

140.  "Yes,  sir;  without  a  cent,  sir.     But  if  it  hadn't 

been  for  the  police,  sir "     He  shivered  slightly   as 

though  at  recollections  of  some  deep  fear. 

141.  "  You  see,  sir,"  he  explained,  "  the  police  found 
out  about  our  helping  the  boy  out  of  the  city  and  beyond 
their  reach.     They  punished  me,  sir." 

142.  He  seemed  content  to  drop  the  subject  of  the 
police.  I  wished  to  hear  more.  "  What  did  they  do  ?  "  I 
asked. 

143.  "  Oh,  everything,  sir !  "  He  lowered  his  voice 
until  it  was  almost  a  whisper.  I  thought  I  saw  tears  in 
his  eyes. 

144.  "  You  see,  sir,  the  police  knew  that  I  had  been  in 
prison.  They  used  that  against  me,  sir.  They  told  my 
employers — every  one,  sir.  I  could  get  no  work,  sir. 
Then  when  I  couldn't  go  out " 


A  Quiet  Life  oe  Life  on  the  Quiet  211 

145.  "  What  kept  you  from  going  out  ?  "  I  demanded. 

146.  "  The  police,  sir,"  he  answered,  as  though  sur- 
prised at  my  ignorance.  "  The  police.  They  arrested  me 
every  time  I  went  out  on  the  street,  sir.  They  said  I  was 
an  habitual  criminal — a  dangerous  man,  sir.  Once  I  was 
clubbed,  sir." 

147.  "  What  for  ?  "  I  insisted. 

148.  "  I  was  trying  to  get  some  bread,  sir.  I  bought 
it — a  stale  loaf  for  three  cents,  sir.  I  was  taking  it  to  our 
room,  sir,  when  a  policeman  arrested  me.  Said  I  stole  it, 
sir.  W^hen  I  proved  I  bought  it,  sir,  they  clubbed  me, 
sir." 

149.  "  How  did  it  end  ?  "  I  queried. 

150.  "  I  was  coming  to  that,  sir.  You  see  when  they 
stopped  the  charitable  ladies " 

151.  "  What's  that?  "  I  feared  to  miss  a  detail. 

152.  "  Oh,  you  see,  the  ladies  had  been  helping  my 
wife ;  bringing  her  coal  and  food,  sir.  Then  they  were 
told  that  I  was  a  loafer,  sir;  a  mere  loafer  and  jail- 
bird, sir.  I  offered  to  go  without  food  myself  if  they 
would  allow  my  wife  to  have  it,  sir.  I  told  the  ladies  so, 
sir.     God  bless  them,  sir." 

153.  "What  did  the  ladies  do?"  I  asked  as  he 
paused. 

154.  "They  were  very  kind,  sir;  and  very  angry  at 
the  police,  sir.  They  made  the  deuce  of  a  row,  sir.  But 
it  was  no  use,  sir.  They  told  me  it  was  no  use,  sir.  They 
advised  me  to  leave,  sir. 

155.  "  Then  I  left,  sir.  Slipped  out  at  night,  sir.  I 
went  to  Chicago,  sir." 

156.  "  And  your  wife  ?  "  I  suggested. 

157..    "  The  charitable  ladies  took  care  of  her  until  I 


212  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

sent  for  her,  sir;  for  a  year,  sir.     They  were  very  good, 
sir." 

158.  He  seemed  to  liave  completed  his  domestic  story. 
"  How  did  you  come  to  take  up  burglary  as  a  regular 
job?"  I  asked. 

159.  "  I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  You  see  I  had  to  have  money  to  send  my  wife  and  the 
baby,  sir.  I  was  afraid  to  ask  for  work — afraid  of  the 
police,  sir.     So  I  stole,  sir." 

IGO.  "How  often  have  you  been  pinched  since?"  I 
queried. 

161.  "  Oh,  never,  sir !  "  There  was  pride  in  his  voice. 
"  I  suppose  you  mean  arrested,  sir  ?  The  police  are  really 
most  stupid — most  stupid  when  matched  against  men  with 
brains.  You  see  I  planned  carefully — very  carefully.  I 
told  you  of  the  mental  strain,  sir.  You  see,  sir,  that  I 
never  took  anything  but  money,  sir — nothing  but  money. 
And  always  from  the  rich — always  from  those  who  could 
afford  it,  sir.  You  see,  sir,  I  had  been  a  gentleman's  man 
as  I  said,  sir,  and  I  could  always  make  my  plans  with  the 
knowledge  gained  while  I  w^as  employed  in  big  houses,  sir." 

162.  "Have  you  made  a  living?"  I  asked. 

163.  "  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  he  answered.     "  A  very  good  liv- 


163.  Another  element  of  contrast — the  burglar  retiring  to  a  life 
of  domestic  peace  in  his  later  years.  Observe  how  a  judicious 
perspective  is  maintained  in  this  story,  by  offsetting  the  highly 
romantic,  adventurous,  and  sentimental  with  the  domestic,  busi- 
ness-like, and  matter  of  fact — e.g.,  Opt's  accumulation  of  a  bank 
account ;  his  providing  a  college  education  for  his  son.  This 
further  reveals  the  author's  intention  to  sketch  forth  a  burglarious 
career  that  is  not  all  crime,  nor  all  romance,  as  the  crook  stories 
and  plays  may  show  it,  nor  yet  all  a  hard  matter-of-fact  pursuit 
of  business,  as  Opt  thinks  it., 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  213 

ing,  sir.  In  fact  I  have  enough  to  live  on,  sir.  I  am  about 
to  retire,  sir.  I  leave  for  home  tomorrow,  sir.  That's 
why  I  asked  you  about  the  ring,  sir.     I " 

164.  I  felt  a  twinge  of  suspicion.  He  stopped  and 
watched  me  as  I  pulled  the  ring  from  my  pocket.  "  Opt, 
did  you  steal " 

165.  He  gestured  protest.  "  Oh,  no,  sir!  "  He  seemed 
pained.  "  Please  don't  think  that  of  me,  sir."  He  rose 
abruptly.  "  Good  night,  sir,"  he  said  as  he  sidled  through 
the  door. 

166.  I  dreamed  of  Mr.  Opt  that  night.  At  breakfast 
my  preoccupation  attracted  the  attention  of  Rebecca  our 
maid  and  waitress.  "  Law,  mister,  you  can't  eat  soft- 
b'iled  eggs  with  a  fork,"  she  observed.  "  You  look  like 
you  been  seein'  a  ha'nt."  When  I  went  out  I  found  Mr. 
Opt  waiting  in  the  hall.  We  left  the  house  together.  He 
walked  by  my  side  for  a  block  before  he  spoke. 

167.  "  I  wish  to  apologize,  sir,"  he  began. 

168.  I  could  think  of  nothing  requiring  apology  and 
said  so.    He  seemed  surprised. 

169.  "  I  am  so  glad,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  was  afraid  that 
I  was  discourteous  in  leaving  you  so  abruptly  last  night. 
And  I  wished  to  bid  you  good-by,  sir,"  he  continued. 


165.  Opt  is  a  man  of  sensibilities,  with  a  regard  for  certain 
proprieties  quite  as  much  as  any  other  citizen. 

166.  Here  begins  what  may  be  regarded  as  the  falling  action  of 
the  boarding-house  plot.  In  this  falling  action  is  included  the 
final  incident  to  Opt's  narrative,  providing  a  final  "  punch " 
(intensifying  incident).  With  some  stretching  of  terms,  we  can 
regard  pars.  196-197  in  this  stage  as  containing  the  moment  of 
final  suspense.  The  height  of  our  interest  in  Opt's  adventure 
comes  at  this  point. 


214  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

170.  "  You're  really  going  then?  "  I  asked.  "  Where's 
your  baggage  ?  " 

171.  "  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  Going  on  the  next 
train,  sir.  I  thought  you  might  walk  to  the  station  with 
me,"  he  said  wistfully.  ^'  I  have  something  to  explain, 
sir.  About  my  baggage,  sir,"  he  went  on.  "  I  always 
leave  it,  sir.  That's  one  of  my  precautions,  sir.  Never 
have  baggage  to  be  traced,  sir."  I  looked  at  him  sharply, 
lie  must  have  read  my  thought.  "  Oh,  it's  all  right,  sir. 
I  have  paid  board  three  weeks  in  advance,  sir.  The  good 
Mrs.  Roddy  will  lose  nothing,  sir." 

172.  We  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  time;  then  I  felt 
him  tug  at  my  sleeve. 

173.  "  About  the  ring,  sir,"  he  said  timidly.  "  I  hope 
you  impugn  no  wrong  motive,  sir.  You  see,  sir,  we  con- 
sider it  a  point  of  honor  to  help  the  young,  sir.  Especially 
the  young  ladies,  sir.  Miss  Truax  might  have  discovered 
that  her  ring  was  plated — that  it  was  bogus,  sir.  It 
might  have  made  her  very  unhappy,  sir.  And  we  try  to 
help  young  ladies,  sir ;  as  we  would  wish  our  own 
daughter " 


174.  "  You  have  a  daughter  ?  "  I  inquired. 

175.  "  Oh,  yes,  sir.  A  beautiful  girl,  sir.  She  is 
about  to  be  married,  sir.  That's  one  of  the  reasons  why 
I  am  quitting " 

176.  He  stopped  without  naming  his  unlawful  voca- 
tion.    He  paused  for  a  moment  before  he  spoke  again. 

177.  "  You  see,  sir,"  he  resumed,  "  I  was  afraid  you 
might  think  that  I  was  using  the  ring  to  enlist  your  sym- 
pathy— to  get  you  to  take  up  for  burglars  in  your  writ- 
ings— or  in  your  friends'  writings,  sir.  I  really  had  no 
such  intention,  I  assure  you,  sir.    I  meant  only  to  appeal 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  215 

to  your  sense  of  justice,  sir.  That  was  all,  sir.  To  have 
you  believe  that  burglars  may  be  human — just  like  other 
men,  sir." 

178.  We  were  approaching  the  station  and  had  slowed 
our  pace.  I  turned  to  look  at  the  patient  little  figure  at 
my  side — and  could  not  repress  a  grin.  I  slapped  Mr. 
Opt  on  the  back. 

179.  "  Oh,  you  concentrated  essence  of  crime,"  I 
chuckled.  "  You  thief  without  guile.  You  adventurer 
without  adventures.  Jugged  for  a  good  deed ;  then  crim- 
inal for  twenty  years — and  never  caught  red " 

180.  ''  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  Mr.  Opt  broke  in.  "  I  hope 
I  did  not  give  you  the  impression  that  I  was  never  caught, 
sir.  I  meant  that  I  was  never  arrested,  sir.  Simj)ly  that, 
sir.     You  see,  the  lady  was  so  good,  sir." 

181.  I  grabbed  his  arm.  "  Tell  me  about  the  lady, 
Opt,"  I  demanded.  We  had  entered  the  station.  Mr. 
Opt  looked  at  the  clock  nervously  and  compared  his  watch. 
"  If  you'll  walk  out  to  the  train,  sir,"  he  agreed. 

182.  "  There  is  really  nothing  to  tell,  sir.  Nothing  but 
the  kindness  of  the  lady,  sir.  Somebody  would  surely 
have  reached  her  in  time  to  save  the  baby,  sir." 

183.  "  Another  baby  ?  "  I  gasped. 

184.  "  Oh,  the  lady's  baby,  sir.  You  see,  I  never 
should  have  entered  the  house;  but  I  needed  the  money 
very  badly,  sir.  It  was  while  our  girl  was  little,  sir — 
about  two  years  old,  sir.     We  were  very  poor  yet,  sir. 

185.  "  You  see,  sir,  I  was  desperate — really  desperate. 
I  entered  the  house  through  the  basement.  Careless  sei'v- 
ants  left  the  window  open.     It  tempted  me,  sir.     I  saw 


210  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  light  in  the  nursery,  sir;  but  it  was  far  out  in  the 
wing,  and  1  thought  I  was  safe.  I  went  to  the  second 
floor,  sir.  I  had  just  found  the  money  in  the  master's 
room,  sir — over  a  hundred  dollars,  sir.  I  hid  behind  the 
curtains  when  I  heard  the  lady  come  from  the  nursery. 

186.  "  She  was  crying — crying  pitifully,  sir.  And 
begging  over  the  telephone,  sir.  It  was  a  lonely  house  out 
in  the  suburbs,  sir.  '  Won't  you  please  send  the  doctor ! ' 
she  kept  saying.     '  I  tell  you  he's  dying — my  baby !  ' 

187.  "  I  could  hear  the  baby,  sir.  That  awful  choking 
of  croup,  sir.    What  else  could  I  do,  sir  ?  " 

188.  "  What  did  you  do  ?  "  I  demanded. 

189.  "  I  put  the  money  back,  sir.  And  went  to  her, 
sir.  She  was  all  alone  in  the  house  with  the  baby,  sir. 
Her  husband  was  away  and  the  servants  had  deserted  her 
to  go  to  a  party  while  she  was  holding  the  sick  child,  sir. 
They  didn't  know  it  was  serious,  sir — not  at  all,  sir,"  he 
apologized  for  them. 

190.  "  Did  the  lady  scream  ?  "  I  asked. 

191.  "  Oh,  no,  sir.  She  only  wanted  help,  sir.  I  be- 
lieve the  doctor  was  on  his  way,  sir.  There  were  no  motor 
cars  in  those  days,  you  know,"  he  explained. 

192.  "  Did  you  save  the  baby  ?  "  I  inquired. 

193.  ^'  Oh,  yes,  sir.  You  see  I  knew  something  of  the 
disease,  sir.  Our  boy  had  it,  sir.  So  I  went  to  the  stable 
and  got  some  lime.  Slacked  it  in  a  bucket,  sir.  And  we 
held  the  baby's  face  in  the  vapor,  sir.  He  was  quite  easy 
when  the  doctor  came,  sir." 

194.  We  reached  the  train  and  Mr.  Opt  stepped  up  on 
the  platform  of  the  last  car.  "  Did  she  tell  the  doctor  you 
was  a  burglar  ?  "  I  hurried  my  question. 


A  Quiet  Life  or  Life  on  the  Quiet  217 

195.  "  Oh,  no,  sir.  He  never  asked,  sir.  We  were 
very  busy  until  the  servants  returned,  sir.  Then  he  left 
the  house  while  I  was  locked  up,  sir,  and " 

196.  "  Locked  up?  "  I  snapped,  in  an  effort  to  get  the 
story  before  the  train  started. 

197.  "  Yes,  sir,"  Mr.  Opt  stated  placidly.  "  You  see, 
the  servants  took  me  for  a  burglar,  sir,  and  locked  me  in 
the  coal  bin.  But  she  released  me  as  soon  as  she  heard  of 
it,  sir.  She  asked  me  about  myself,  sir.  I  told  her  about 
my  little  girl.  She  seemed  much  interested,  sir.  When 
I  left  her  she  thanked  me  very  much.  And  then  she  gave 
me  some  money,  sir.  She  was  very  good,  sir.  I  hurried 
back  home,  one  hand  holding  the  money  and  the  other  the 
shoes,  sir." 

198.  The  train  moved.     I  ran  alongside. 

199.  "  What  shoes  ?  "  I  yelled. 

200.  Mr.  Opt  leaned  far  out  to  make  his  apology. 

201.  "  I  thought  I  told  you,  sir.  The  pair  of  shoes 
she  gave  me  for  my  baby,  sir." 

202.  The  absence  of  Mr.  Opt  was  a  subject  for  com- 
ment ^t  dinner  that  night. 

203.  Miss  Bessie  Truax  kept  her  left  hand  above  the 
table  throughout  the  meal.     She  flashed  the  diamond  in 


201.  A  skillful  employment  of  a  "  sure-fire  "  human-sympathy 
touch  as  the  final  efiieet-producer. 

202.  The  separate  close.  See  S.  S.  M.,  169-175,  especially  par. 
6.  Note  the  touch  of  irony  in  Miss  T's  estimate  of  Opt  while  she 
is  flaunting  the  ring  that  his  mistaken  gratitude  led  him  to  pro- 
vide her.  This  and  Doc  Spears'  comment  afford  the  philosophical 
commentary  on  the  theme,  and  give  the  final  emphasis  to  the  con- 
tradictions on  which  the  conception  of  Opt  and  the  structure  of 
the  story  are  based. 


2 IS  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

her  new  engagement  ring  as  she  emphasized  her  remarks 
with  gestures. 

204.  "  Nice,  quiet  little  man,"  she  commented.  "  Looks 
kinda  close-fisted  and  not  likely  to  allow  any  nickels  to 
roll  past  him  to  anybody  else,  though." 

205.  ^"  Don't  know  how  such  scary  little  skates  get 
along  in  New  -York,"  Doc  Spears  offered  in  judgment. 
"  lie  ought  to  beat  it  out  to  some  little  burg  before  he 
gets  stepped  on.  I'd  die  if  I  had  to  lead  a  quiet  life  like 
such  guys.     I  need  excitement,  I  do !  " 


LITTLE  SUNBEAM 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  Little  Sunbeam  "  may  not  be,  in  the  strict  sense,  a 
conte.  The  editor  recommends  that  the  student  have  the 
question  stated  for  debate  by  his  debating  society,  and 
agrees  to  accept  the  conclusion — if  any — so  reached.  He 
himself  prefers  to  consider  this  particular  story  mainly 
with  reference  to  other  matters.  But  he  will  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  the  use  made  by  the  author  of  his  plot-incidents 
is  non-dramatic;  he  is  not  aiming  primarily  at  a  stage- 
crisis,  but  at  certain  effects  quite  different  from  those  pro- 
duced by  a  stage-crisis.  See  S.  S.  M.,  24:  1-5.  He  has 
elected  to  make  his  plot  merely  the  supporting  framework 
for  character  and  atmosphere  materials  (see  notes  3-4). 
Consequently,  he  lays  no  emphasis  on  the  plot  as  such.  If, 
however,  the  series  of  incidents  going  to  make  up  the  plot 
were  presented  directly,  it  might  be  so  managed  as  to  be- 
come a  sketch  or  tale  or  a  conte ;  for  there  is  complication, 
conflict,  and  outcome  in  it, 

2.  But  here  the  series  is  not  told  directly.  Therein  lies 
much  of  the  sprightliness  and  novelty  of  the  story.  The 
idea  of  making  the  letters  of  a  cross-roads  correspondent 
reveal  her  own  love  story  is  refreshingly  unusual. 

3.  The  resourcefulness  and  skill  of  the  author  are  fur- 
ther manifested  in  the  success  he  achieves  in  making  Lit- 
tle Sunbeam's  letters  characterize  her  own  and  several 
other  familiar  types  of  small-town  people.  See  next  note. 
(Other  stories  containing  social  characterization  of  like 

219 


220  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

classes  are  "  The  Last  Rose,"  "  A  Rag-Time  Lady,"  and 
"  The  Defective.") 

4.  As  a  result  of  the  class-characterization  mentioned, 
we  have  amusingly  good-natured  satire  effectively  char- 
acterizing aspects  of  small-town  life  (social  characteriza- 
tion;  S.  S.  M.,  257).  The  author  aimed  largely  at  achiev- 
ing this  characterization  of  types  and  society,  a  fact  that 
explains  the  non-dramatic  attitude  he  has  chosen  to  take 
toward  his  plot. 

5.  Ingeniously  woven  into  the  letters,  contributing  to 
the  fabric  and  especially  to  the  satirical  tone  of  the  nar- 
rative, is  material  from  the  stock  of  conventional  anecdotes 
of  newspaper  offices ;  e.g.,  the  wedding  report  without  the 
name  of  the  bridegroom,  and  the  report  of  a  feud-fight  and 
the  long  list  of  victims  with  the  casual  remark  that  "  an 
unfortunate  occurrence  marred  the  serene  calm  of  our 
Sabbath  afternoon "  and  no  further  explanation  of  the 
cause  of  the  violence  than  the  careless  sentence  "  it  is 
rumored  there  was  ill  feeling  between  the  men."  (These 
illustrate  how  very  ordinary  material  may  prove  usable.) 
Skillful  integration  (S.  S.  M.,166:  23)  is  likewise  accom- 
plished by  making  the  narrator  a  newspaper  man  and  hav- 
ing him  maintain  toward  the  persons  and  incidents  the 
cynically  satirical  attitude  that  newspaper  experience  so 
often  develops.  Fortunately  a  laughing  disposition  goes 
with  this  newspaper  man's  cynicism  and  his  satire  is 
tolerant  and  good-natured.  On  the  "  angle  of  narration," 
as  here  excellently  illustrated,  see  S.  S.  M.,  138 :  3-4. 


LITTLE  SUNBEAM 
By  George  Pattullo 

Reprinted  by  Permission  from  "  Every  Week  "  for  June  18,  1917. 
(Copyrighted,  1917;  all  rights  reserved) 

1.  Little  Sunbeam  first  came  into  our  lives  with  a  fat 
letter  from  Ivanhoe,  containing  a  faithful  account  of  the 
doings  at  a  social  on  the  spacious  grounds  of  the  par- 
sonage, in  aid  of  destitute  Belgians.  It  appeared  from 
her  write-up  that  the  feature  of  the  program  was  a  reci- 
tation by  Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff,  who  rendered  "  Her 
Sister's  Beau "  very  acceptably,  and  responded  with  a 
vocal  solo  as  an  encore. 

2.  Now,  Ivanhoe  was  nineteen  miles  from  anywhere 
and  little  more  than  a  wide  place  in  the  road,  so  we  man- 
aged to  keep  our  temperature  somewhat  below  fever  heat 
over  the  event  and  published  half  a  stick  of  her  contribu- 
tion. And  we  didn't  pay  her  for  that,  because  Little  Sun- 
beam had  neglected  to  inclose  her  name,  giving  the  ex- 
planation that  she  preferred  employment  of  a  nom  de 
plume,  and  that  any  items  of  interest  she  could  find  for 
the  Booster  would  be  a  labor  of  love,  inasmuch  as  she  read 
the  paper  religiously,  and  hoped  some  day  to  realize  her 
dream  of  becoming  an  author;  and  did  we  think  this  sort 
of  work  good  training,  or  would  we  recommend  taking  a 
correspondence  course  in  the  art  of  the  short  story? 

3.  Next  week  she  gave  us  some  more.  Her  budget  was 
labeled  "  Ivanhoe  Gleanings,"  and  read  like  this : 

221 


222  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

4.  "  Miss  Bortine  Biggerstaff  gave  an  exhibition  of 
china-painting  at  Don  Blackburn's  picture  store  on  Fri- 
day last.  Many  exquisite  designs  were  shown,  consisting 
of  plates,  cups,  and  saucers,  and  three  vases.  Miss  Big- 
gerstaff studied  for  two  months  under  Mrs.  Gus  Le 
Strange  of  St.  Jo,  Missouri,  and  connoisseurs  predict  a 
brilliant  future  for  this  talented  young  lady  in  whatever 
field  she  may  elect  to  conquer. 

5.  "  An  unfortunate  occurrence  marred  the  serene  calm 
of  our  Sabbath  afternoon.  Buck  Ballew,  aged  twenty-six, 
was  shot  through  the  neck.  Andy  Ballew,  a  brother,  was 
shot  through  the  right  leg,  and  the  bone  shattered  just 
above  the  knee,  the  bullet  ranging  upward.  Chester  Bal- 
lew, another  brother,  was  beaten  over  the  head  with  a  hard 
substance  and  severely  hurt.  Bodie  Ballew,  a  cousin,  was 
cut  with  a  knife.  James  Ballew,  known  as  the  Gray  Wolf 
of  Eed  Bottom,  had  three  ribs  fractured  and  his  scalp  cut. 
Ike  Ballew " 

6.  But  it  would  take  half  a  day  to  call  the  tally  of  the 
injured  furnished  by  Little  Sunbeam,  for  we  haven't  even 
touched  on  the  Cunninghams  yet.     Here  goes : 

7.  "  Bert  Cunningham  lost  two  teeth  and  the  lobe  of 
his  left  ear.  Archie  Cunningham  had  his  neck  and  shoul- 
der slashed,  requiring  seven  stitches.  Uncle  Davy  Cun- 
ningham was  rendered  unconscious  by  a  blow  from  some 
hard  substance  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  striking  one  of  the 
Ballews  with  a  breast-yoke.  Young  Lee  Cunningham  was 
wounded  in  the  shoulder  by  a  charge  of  buckshot.  Grandpa 
Cunningham  was  rendered  senseless  by  a  missile  thrown 
with  great  force  by  somebody  whose  identity  has  not  yet 
been  established,  but  who  is  thought  to  have  been  a 
Ballew. 


Little  Sunbeam  223 

8.  "  It  is  rumored  there  was  ill  feeling  between  the 
men." 

9.  That  was  all — every  word  of  her  despatch. 

10.  "  That's  what  I  call  good  work.  It's  accurate," 
declared  Sam  Bastedo,  our  printer,  who  was  always  a 
stickler  for  chronological  order.  "  It  behooves  us  to  hire 
that  lady.  Cap." 

11.  Little  Sunbeam's  next  offering  in  the  "  Gleanings  " 
was: 

12.  "  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Witherspoon,  has  returned  from  college  and  is  the  guest  of 
his  parents  at  their  handsome  brick  home  on  Toney 
Avenue.  He  expects  to  be  in  Ivanhoe  only  a  short  time, 
and  will  then  go  out  into  the  world  to  engage  in  his  life- 
work.  Mr.  Witherspoon  states  that  he  has  not  yet  decided 
what  career  he  will  embrace,  but  announces  that  he  pre- 
fers life  in  the  larger  cities,  and  will  probably  make  his 
home  in  one  of  the  great  metropolises. 

13.  "  At  the  morning  service  in  the  church  last  Sun- 
day, Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff  rendered  a  vocal  solo  very 
acceptably.  This  gifted  young  lady  was  in  pleasing  voice, 
and  her  rendering  of  '  The  Palms'  was  enjoyed  by  a  fair- 
sized  congregation  that  would  have  been  larger,  only  it 
rained  and  the  roads  were  bad." 

14.  About  a  fortnight  later  she  broke  out  again: 

15.  "  It  is  reported  that  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son 
of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue,  contem- 
plates removal  to  Washington  to  accept  a  position  in  the 
Department  of  Agriculture.  Just  what  his  duties  will  be 
is  not  yet  known  definitely,  but  that  he  will  be  a  pro- 
nounced  acquisition   to   the   government   of   the   United 


224  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

States  goes  without  saying.  His  hosts  of  friends  in  Ivan- 
hoe,  and  indeed  wherever  this  brilliant  young  man  has 
been,  wish  him  unbounded  success  in  his  chosen  career. 
Some  recognition  of  the  prominent  part  Dr.  Witherspoon 
has  always  taken  in  Democratic  politics  has  long  been  felt 
to  be  his  due,  and  therefore  it  caused  no  surprise  when 
the  report  leaked  out  that  his  only  son  had  been  oifered 
an  honorable  and  lucrative  situation  at  the  Nation's 
capital." 

16.  But  a  hitch  must  have  occurred,  for  Little  Sun- 
beam did  not  send  any  follow-up  on  this  item.  She  for- 
warded a  few  lines  about  a  meeting  of  the  Chaminade 
Club  at  the  mansion  of  Mrs.  Dink  Sparger  on  Toney 
Avenue,  at  which  Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff  rendered  a 
violin  solo  very  acceptably,  her  chosen  piece  being  Han- 
del's Largo ;  but  of  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon  not  a  syllable 
for  an  entire  month.  Then  one  day  the  tension  was 
broken : 

17.  "  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue,  has  accepted  a  position 
with  the  Red  Front  Drug  Store,  and  will  enter  on  his  new 
duties  immediately.  After  a  careful  survey  of  various 
fields,  this  popular  young  man  has  decided  to  settle  down 
in  Ivanhoe,  and  declares  that  the  old  town  is  good  enough 
for  him  or  anybody.  Is  it  a  coincidence,  or  something 
deeper,  that  the  gentlemanly  proprietor  of  the  Red  Front 
is  about  to  install  a  marble  soda-fountain  in  his  place  of 
business  ? 

18.  "  However  that  may  be,  the  Red  Front  Drug  Store 
and  its  proprietor  may  well  be  congratulated  on  securing 
the  services  of  Mr.  Witherspoon.  He  is  bound  to  be- 
speak for  his  employer  a  large  trade." 


Little  Sunbeam  225 

19.  We  did  some  editing  on  this  announcement,  for  we 
were  rapidly  becoming  fed  up  on  Dupree;  but  it  did  not 
discourage  Little  Sunbeam.     She  came  back  with : 

20.  ''  The  annual  ball  of  the  Volunteer  Fire  Brigade 
will  be  held  in  the  hall  above  the  Red  Front  Drug  Store 
on  Friday  night,  the  twenty-fourth  of  November.  Invi- 
tations have  been  sent  broadcast  throughout  the  county  and 
the  State,  which  will  be  well  represented  by  its  chivalry 
and  fair  daughters. 

21.  "  The  grand  march  will  be  led  by  Mr.  Dupree 
Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Wither  spoon  of  Toney 
Avenue,  and  there  is  much  speculation  going  the  rounds 
as  to  the  partner  he  will  honor.  A  little  bird  whispers 
that  a  certain  young  lady  of  musical  and  literary  talents 
will  be  the  lucky  one,  but  who  knows  ?  A  woman  chooses, 
but  man  disposes.    However !  " 

22.  On  the  twentieth  of  the  month  Little  Sunbeam  for- 
warded to  the  Booster  a  considerable  list  of  personal  items 
in  "  Ivanhoe  Gleanings." 

23.  The  leader  was : 

24.  "  Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff  has  returned  from  the 
CO.  seat,  where  she  went  to  do  some  shopping.  Can  it 
be  that  the  annual  ball  of  the  Volunteer  Fire  Brigade  on 
the  night  of  November  twenty-fourth  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  trip  ?  A  little  bird  has  been  whispering  that  some 
delightful  surprises  will  be  revealed  that  night  in  the  way 
of  modistes'  creations.  Time  alone  will  tell.  More 
later." 

25.  Another  personal  read : 

26.  "  Miss  Lola  Sparger,  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dink  Sparger,  returned  home  yesterday  evening  on  the 
Limited  from  the  North.     She  has  been  attending  a  ladies' 


226  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

seminary  for  the  past  three  years,  with  visits  to  the  home 
of  her  parents  twice  annually ;  but  owing  to  the  health  of 
her  mother,  who  has  been  poorly,  she  left  before  the  close 
of  the  term  and  will  not  return  until  after  the  Christmas 
vacation.  Her  many  friends  are  rejoiced  to  see  her  back 
and  looking  so  well." 

27.  We  were  only  mildly  interested  at  the  moment  in 
Miss  Lola  Sparger;  what  we  yearned  to  know  was  whom 
Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon  honored  for  the  grand  march. 
The  suspense  was  terrible;  Sam  Bastedo  broke  under  it 
and  got  drunk. 

28.  In  her  subsequent  account  of  this  social  function, 
however.  Little  Sunbeam  betrayed  a  noticeable  lack  of 
enthusiasm,  not  to  say  lukewarmness.  It  was  plain  that, 
so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  the  Firemen's  Ball  had  been 
a  dismal  frost.  She  dismissed  it  with  a  few  terse  words ; 
there  was  no  glow  to  the  write-up  at  all.  She  simply  men- 
tioned the  fact  of  its  having  been  held,  with  an  unusually 
large  crowd  of  guests  present,  and  the  merriment  had  been 
kept  up  until  the  wee  sma'  hours,  and  Miss  Bertine  Bigger- 
staff  had  looked  softly  lovely  in  a  dress  of  blue  china  silk, 
trimmed  with  passementerie,  and  blue  satin  slippers  to 
match. 

29.  That  was  practically  all  Little  Sunbeam  contrib- 
uted on  the  Firemen's  Ball  at  Ivanhoe,  except  that,  away 
down  in  the  tail  end  of  "  Gleanings,"  she  did  mention 
Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of 
Toney  Avenue,  as  having  led  the  grand  march  with  Miss 
Lola  Sparger. 

30.  The  advent  of  cold  weather — or  was  it  the  Fire- 
men's Ball  ? — seemed  to  cast  a  shadow  over  Little  Sun- 
beam, for  we  did  not  hear  from  her  until  long  after  New 


Little  Sunbeam  227 

Year's,  and  then  it  was  in  an  acrimonious  vein,  betraying 
overwrought  nerves  and  rebellion  against  Fate.  Indeed, 
had  we  permitted  publication  of  her  budget,  it  would  have 
laid  us  open  to  three  counts  of  libel. 

31.  "  It  behooves  us,"  remarked  Sam  Bastedo  sagely, 
as  he  thumbed  the  copy — "  it  behooves  us  to  keep  our  eye 
peeled  on  what  this  gal  sends  in.  Cap.  She's  gettin'  mean. 
She  ain't  herself." 

32.  That  was  the  way  it  struck  me,  too.  One  para- 
graph in  her  "  Ivanhoe  Gleanings  "  ran  about  like  this : 

33.  "  It  has  been  rumored  of  late  that  a  certain  hand- 
some and  debonair  dispenser  of  hot  drinks  at  a  drug  store 
not  a  thousand  miles  from  the  town  square  is  engaged  to 
be  married  to  a  young  person  now  visiting  her  parents' 
home  from  school.  A  great  many  people  have  repeated 
this  rumor,  which  may  do  much  harm  to  innocent  people. 
We  are  in  a  position  to  state  positively  that  it  is  not  true, 
and  the  report  was  started  by  the  young  lady  (  ?)  in  the 
case,  who  would  doubtless  give  her  eye-teeth  to  have  it 
true.  But  we  are  in  a  position  to  state  positively  that  it 
is  wholly  without  foundation,  and  on  no  less  authority 
than  the  young  ynan  himself,  who  has  vigorously  denied 
it.  He  is  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  gossip,  unless  it  be 
that  some  casual  attentions  he  has  considered  it  polite  to 
show  this  young  person  have  been  misunderstood.  Honi 
soit  qui  mal  y  pense — honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

34.  This  was  too  hot  for  the  Booster.  We  absolutely 
declined  to  get  mixed  up  with  the  love  affairs  of  the  hand- 
some and  debonair  dispenser  of  hot  drinks,  and  junked 
the  item.  But  next  week  we  took  heart.  There  came  an 
announcement  that  cheered  us  amazingly; 


'228  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

35.  "  Miss  Lola  Sparger,  who  has  been  visiting  at  the 
home  of  her  parents,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dink  Sparger,  has  re- 
turned to  school  in  the  ISTorth  after  an  extended  stay  in  our 
midst." 

36.  After  that.  Little  Sunbeam  appeared  to  gain  a  new 
lease  of  life.  She  mingled  with  her  kind  again ;  her 
"  Gleanings  "  were  full  of  meat.  We  received  such  re- 
vivifying news  as  the  following: 

37.  "  Ivanhoe  is  keeping  pace  with  the  march  of 
progress !  A  dancing  class  has  been  organized  in  our 
midst  among  some  of  the  young  people,  the  object  being 
to  meet  every  Friday  night  in  the  hall  above  the  Red 
Front  Drug  Store  to  trip  the  light  fantastic  and  revel  in 
the  mazes  of  the  newest  and  most  refined  steps.  Miss 
Bertine  Biggerstaff,  who  has  been  taking  a  correspondence 
course  in  the  art  that  is  the  rage  of  New  York  and  other 
metropolises,  has  volunteered  to  instruct  the  members  of 
the  club,  which  is  to  be  known  as  the  Sunbeam  Circle. 
A  little  bird  whispers  that  several  pleasing  romances  will 
be  culminated  at  these  gatherings  of  the  elite  and  bonton 
of  fair  Ivanhoe." 

38.  Great  undertakings  very  seldom  run  smoothly, 
however,  and  the  S.  C.  was  no  exception.  It  died  a  pre- 
mature death  within  a  fortnight.  Grim  religion  put  the 
ban  on  its  joyous  activities — the  parson  lit  on  the  Sun- 
beam Circle  like  a  thousand  of  brick.  Here  is  the  whole 
sad  tale: 

39.  "  Reverend  White  preached  last  Sunday  morning 
on  '  The  Vices  of  Modern  Society ;  or.  Is  Ivanhoe  a  Whit 
Better  than  Ancient  Babylon  ? '  It  was  a  powerful  and 
forceful  appeal,  and  was  listened  to  raptly  by  a  large  and 
thoughtful   congregation.     Reverend   White   pointed   out 


Little  Sunbeam  229 

many  parallels  in  the  social  life  of  Ivanhoe  to  that  of  the 
wicked  city  of  old,  and  warned  the  younger  generation 
to  beware  the  pitfalls  and  snares  that  lie  in  wait  for  ven- 
turesome feet. 

40.  "  Of  all  the  evils  most  to  be  dreaded,  he  said,  that 
of  dancing  was  foremost.  Often  its  insidious  influence 
leads  to  hideous  and  soul-revolting  sin,  said  Reverend 
White,  and  he  cited  many  instances  that  had  come  under 
his  personal  notice  of  young  men  and  women  who  had  gone 
astray.  And  the  one-step  had  been  the  first  step  down- 
ward. It  can  truthfully  be  said,  declared  Reverend  White, 
that  he  who  Hesitates  is  lost — doomed  forevermore." 

41.  And  in  the  very  next  letter  our  Ivanhoe  corre- 
spondent wrote : 

42.  "  The  dancing  class  recently  inaugurated  by  the 
Sunbeam  Circle,  composed  of  the  most  prominent  young 
people  of  Ivanhoe,  has  been  discontinued.  It  has  been 
thought  best  not  to  hold  any  more  dances,  for  a  variety  of 
reasons.  But  the  Circle  is  not  dissolved.  On  suggestion 
of  our  pastor,  it  retains  its  name  and  membership,  but  the 
purpose  of  the  organization  will  be  altered.  Henceforth 
it  will  aid  the  pastor  in  the  work  of  the  church  and  Sab- 
bath school,  and  as  a  first  step  has  planned  to  hold  an  old- 
fashioned  social  in  the  basement  of  the  church  on  Friday 
evening  next,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Foreign  Missionary 
Society.  Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff  has  the  program  in 
charge,  and  some  rare  treats  are  promised  all  those  who 
attend." 

43.  "  It  behooves  us,"  said  Sam  Bastedo  sagaciously — 
"  it  behooves  us  to  write  to  this  here  Miss  Biggerstaff, 
Cap.  Why  don't  you  ?  It  seems  to  me  like  she'd  make  a 
fine  correspondent  herself.     She's  in  everything." 


230  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

44.  Shortly  after  the  social,  at  which  Miss  Bertine 
Bifrgcrstaff  recited  "  Iler  Sister's  Beau,"  to  the  iinboiinded 
delight  of  the  hosts  of  children  there  assembled,  and  which 
was  presided  over  by  Dr.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue, 
who  had  a  few  well  chosen  words  to  introduce  each  num- 
ber on  the  program — shortly  after  this  event,  which  left 
the  Missionary  Society  with  a  deficit  of  only  nine  dollars 
and  thirty  cents — almost  immediately  afterward  came  a 
startling  business  announcement.  It  "was  no  less  than  ex- 
tensive alterations  to  the  Red  Front  Drug  Store: 

45.  "  Owing  to  an  immense  increase  in  the  volume  of 
soft-drink  business  he  anticipates  during  the  coming  sea- 
son, the  gentlemanly  proprietor  of  the  Red  Front  Drug 
Store  will  tear  out  one  window  of  his  store  and  make  it 
wide  open  to  the  street.  He  will  also  install  an  extra  foun- 
tain of  the  most  modern  and  lavish  description,  and  will 
enlist  the  services  of  a  helper  to  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon, 
son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue,  who 
has  been  practically  managing  this  end  of  the  business  for 
some  months.  His  numerous  friends  will  rejoice  to  learn 
that  Mr.  Witherspoon  will  not  sever  his  connection  with 
the  Red  Front,  as  rumored  about  town  last  week,  but  is  to 
remain  in  charge  and  at  a  nice  raise  in  salary." 

46.  iSTot  a  scrap  of  Ivanhoe  gossip  ever  got  past  Little 
Sunbeam ! 

47.  "  Wedding  bells  are  soon  to  ring  in  our  midst.  The 
blissful  contracting  parties  will  be  Miss  x\nnielee  Bassett, 
daughter  of  Clint  Bassett  of  the  Gents'  Furnishings  Pal- 
ace, and  Jefferson  Brim  Hardin,  the  scholarly  teacher  of 
grade  four  in  the  Crockett  High  School.  Mr.  Hardin  has 
long  been  known  as  one  of  the  Beau  Brummells  of  Ivan- 
hoe, of  whom  there  are  two.     The  other — however! 


Little  Sunbeam  231 

48.  "  A  little  bird  whispers  that  another  romance  is  on 
the  tapis,  as  the  French  say.  At  any  rate,  it  is  rumored 
that  the  attentions  of  a  certain  well  known  young  man  of 
the  CDmmunity  to  one  of  the  most  talented  of  Ivanhoe's 
daughters  have  been  marked  of  late  and  are  growing  seri- 
ous. The  wise  ones  mention  their  names  knowingly.  'Tis 
a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished,  as  the  Bard 
says." 

49.  ISTothing  more  was  heard  from  her  for  a  month. 
Then  she  put  the  tow^n  on  the  map  again  with  the  fol- 
lowing : 

50.  "  At  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  March  31st, 
fire  broke  out  in  the  barn  of  Deacon  Hoover,  corner  of 
Main  and  Fannin  streets.  An  alarm  was  immediately 
telephoned  in  to  Central  by  the  colored  help,  but,  owing 
to  a  broken  connection,  she  was  unable  to  communicate 
with  the  Fire  Hall.  A  member  of  the  Volunteer  Fire 
Brigade,  however,  happened  to  be  in  the  vicinity,  and 
responded  without  hesitation,  all  alone.  He  was  Mr. 
Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon 
of  Toney  Avenue. 

51.  "  Rushing  from  his  place  of  business,  the  Bed 
Front  Drug  Store,  he  reached  the  residence  of  Deacon 
Hoover  long  before  anyone  else  got  there,  only  to  find  the 
barn  in  flames.  He  reports  it  was  a  terrible  and  majestic 
sight.  Hissing  tongues  of  fire  licked  upward  to  a  height 
of  thirty  feet,  sending  sparks  in  all  directions,  and  smoke 
billowed  in  clouds. 

52.  "  People  gathered  from  blocks  round,  and  an  effort 
was  made  by  Mr.  Witherspoon  to  attach  the  garden  hose 
to  the  hydrant  in  order  to  play  the  resultant  stream  upon 


232  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  conflagration — but  all  to  no  avail !     The  hose  leaked 
and  the  water  would  not  quite  reach  the  blaze. 

53.  "  Nothing  daunted  by  a  circumstance  that  might 
well  daunt  the  bravest  heart,  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon, 
son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue,  in- 
stantly secured  some  gunny-sacks  from  the  back  porch, 
where  they  were  kept  for  use  as  a  door-mat,  and  soaked 
them  thoroughly.  Then,  armed  with  these,  the  intrepid 
young  man  drew  a  deep  breath  and  dashed  straight  into 
the  fiery  furnace — or  so  it  seemed  to  the  anxious  spectators 
— and  endeavored  to  beat  out  the  fire.  Even  that  was 
fruitless.  He  was  driven  back  by  the  flames  and  smoke, 
and  rendered  half  unconscious  by  the  deadly  fumes. 

54.  "  And  then  the  cry  \vent  up  that  Mrs.  Hoover  was 
in  the  barn.  The  colored  help  was  first  to  discover  the 
plight  of  her  mistress,  who  had  been  thought,  up  to  that 
moment,  to  be  down  at  the  post-office. 

55.  "  Just  then  we  all  heard  distinctly  the  voice  of 
Mrs.  Hoover  crying  pitifully  from  the  hay-mow,  whither 
she  had  gone  to  pitch  down  some  feed  for  the  cow. 

56.  "  '  Help!  '  was  what  she  said.  '  Help !  I  can't  get 
out.     I'm  locked  in.     Come  to  me,  somebody !  ' 

57.  "  A  scene  of  indescribable  confusion  mingled  with 
horror  unspeakable,  ensued.  A  noble  woman  was  about  to 
burn  to  death  before  their  very  eyes,  and  they  were  power- 
less to  succor  her.  A  few  of  the  ladies  began  to  cry ; 
others  wrung  their  hands ;  all  shrieked  for  somebody  to 
do  something. 

58.  ''  But  there  was  one  who  kept  his  head  amid  all 
the  turmoil.  There  was  one  whose  courage  and  presence 
of  mind  never  faltered  or  deserted  him.  Mr.  Dupree 
Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney 


Little  Sunbeam  233 

Avenue,  responded  instantly  to  the  summons.     Oh,  to  be 
a  man,  and  fearless  and  strong! 

59.  "  '  Follow  me,  men ! '  he  shouted,  speeding  to  the 
lane  back  of  the  barn. 

60.  "  But,  alas,  there  were  no  men  to  follow  him. 
Scores  were  coming — were  even  running  with  swift  feet 
down  Fannin  and  Main  at  that  very  moment — but  they 
had  not  yet  arrived.  Only  ladies  and  boys  were  present, 
and  they  were  powerless  to  aid. 

61.  "  All,  that  is,  except  Miss  Bertine  Biggerstaff,  who 
happened  to  be  passing  and  stopped  to  ascertain  what  as- 
sistance she  could  render,  if  any.  She  it  was  who  helped 
Mr.  Witherspoon  lift  the  heavy  ladder  he  found  by  un- 
erring instinct  in  the  lane  and  carry  it  to  the  front  of 
the  barn.  There  the  well  matched  pair,  working  in  per- 
fect harmony  and  understanding,  although  not  a  word 
passed  between  them,  raised  the  ladder  to  the  door  of  the 
loft,  and  the  courageous  young  man  ascended.  The 
flames  leaped  and  snapped  in  every  direction,  and  smoke 
enveloped  him  so  that  he  was  soon  lost  to  sight;  but  he 
did  not  hesitate.  With  Miss  Biggerstaff  holding  the  lad- 
der firmly,  proud  of  being  able  to  assist  in  the  achieve- 
ment, he  rapidly  climbed  to  the  loft  and  sprang  into 
the  inferno.  How  they  cheered!  But  the  more  thought- 
ful were  dumb  with  fright,  for  the  danger  was  very 
great. 

62.  "  In  a  moment,  however,  out  came  the  hero,  sup- 
porting the  fainting  form  of  Mrs.  Hoover.  He  seemed 
to  be  struggling  with  her.  She  was,  in  fact,  protesting 
against  being  rescued  until  the  cow  was  also  saved.  It 
was  not  until  he  assured  her  that  the  bovine  was  already 
safe  in  the  street  and  unharmed  that  she  consented  to 


234  Today's  Short  Stouies  Analyzed 

descend.      Both  made  the  journey  without  mishap,   and 
strong  and  willing  arms  were  outstretched  to  receive  them. 

63.  "  By  that  time  the  Fire  Brigade  arrived  with  the 
engine,  but  it  was  too  late  to  do  anything.  The  barn  was 
comjoletely  destroyed,  together  with  contents.  Deacon 
Hoover  made  the  statement  to  your  correspondent  in  an 
exclusive  interview  that  the  loss  would  be  five  hundred 
dollars  and  no  insurance. 

64.  ''  On  all  sides  is  heard  praise  of  Mr.  Witherspoon's 
pluck  and  daring  and  reckless  risk  of  life  for  another. 
There  is  talk  of  recommending  him  for  a  Carnegie  Hero 
Medal,  and  a  movement  towards  this  end  has  already  been 
launched.  A  meeting  will  be  held  for  the  purpose  tomorrow 
night  in  the  Fire  Hall,  at  which  Reverend  White  will 
preside." 

65.  There  must,  however,  have  been  some  mean  little 
souls  in  Ivanhoe — there  always  are  in  every  community. 
Witness  this  item  from  the  next  batch  of  "  Gleanings  " : 

66.  "  Truly  the  Bard  said,  '  Ingratitude  stingeth  like  a 
serpent's  tooth.'  There  was  an  instance  of  it  right  in  our 
midst  only  yesterday  that  would  not  be  believable  if  it 
had  not  happened. 

67.  "  At  the  meeting  in  the  Fire  Hall,  called  to  discuss 
ways  and  means  of  recommending  Mr.  Dupree  Wither- 
spoon  for  a  Carnegie  Medal  and  the  financial  emoluments 
that  go  with  it,  which  was  presided  over  by  Reverend 
White,  Deacon  Hoover  spoke.  It  was  generally  antici- 
pated that  he  would  take  the  lead  in  this  praiseworthy 
movement  to  fitly  recognize  the  heroism  of  one  of  Ivan- 
hoe's  most  popular  young  men. 

68.  "  Imagine  then  the  con^ernation  aroused  when  he 


Little  Sunbeam  235 

got  up  and  opposed  the  suggestion.  The  very  man  who 
owed  the  safety  of  his  precious  wife — and  what  greater 
blessing  can  be  bestowed  on  any  man  than  a  faithful  and 
loving  wife  ?  He  actually  opposed  giving  a  medal  to  the 
young  hero  who,  alone  and  almost  unaided,  had  saved 
Mrs.  Hoover's  life. 

69.  "  He  pretended  like  he  appreciated  fully  the  ef- 
forts Mr.  Witherspoon  had  made,  but  begged  to  point  out 
that  if  Mr.  Witherspoon  had  simply  lifted  the  bar  off  the 
back  door,  his  wife  could  have  walked  out  without  any 
trouble  and  the  ladder  would  not  have  been  practically 
ruined." 

70.  Evidently  the  Deacon's  objection  carried  weight. 
It  remained  for  the  young  hero  to  receive  his  reward  in 
another  fashion : 

Yl.  "  An  announcement  that  caused  a  profound  stir  in 
Ivanhoe  was  made  today  by  the  gentlemanly  proprietor 
of  the  Red  Front  Drug  Store.  It  was  to  the  effect  that 
Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Wither- 
spoon of  Toney  Avenue,  would  be  taken  into  partnership 
with  him  on  May  1st  next  under  the  firm  name  of  Semple 
&  Witherspoon,  Pharmaceutists.  As  everybody  knows, 
Mr.  Witherspoon  has  been  the  capable  and  obliging  dis- 
penser of  soft  drinks  at  the  Red  Front  for  more  than  six 
months.  The  Booster  prophesies  for  the  new  firm  all  the 
success  possible." 

72.  Right  on  top  of  this  bulletin  came  a  personal  item 
that  filled  us  with  foreboding: 

73.  "  Contrary  to  her  usual  custom.  Miss  Lola  Sparger 
has  returned  to  Ivanhoe  for  the  Easter  vacation,  and  is 
visiting  her  parents,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dink  Sparger." 

74.  And  in  the  very  next  budget  of  "  Gleanings  "  this : 


23G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

75.  "  Mr.  D.  Witherspoon  entertained  with  a  dance 
at  the  pavilion  in  the  ball  park  last  night  in  honor  of 
Miss  Lola  Sparger,  who  is  the  guest  of  her  parents  for 
the  Easter  vacation.  Your  correspondent  has  no  news  of 
the  event  beyond  hearsay,  but  it  is  rumored  that  the  ice- 
cream did  not  arrive  in  time  to  be  eaten  and  the  band 
never  showed  up  until  eleven  o'clock.  Furthermore,  a  car 
broke  down  on  the  way  home  and  certain  young  people 
were  obliged  to  walk  miles  through  the  dust  in  their  best 
clothes.  A  little  bird  whispers  that  a  certain  young  lady 
(?)  did  not  show  the  best  of  tempers  in  these  trying  cir- 
cumstances.    All  is  not  gold  that  glitters !  " 

76.  Sam  Bastedo,  our  printer,  was  sorely  puzzled  by 
this  item.  He  always  insisted  on  accuracy  and  a  definite 
statement  of  the  identity  of  persons  mentioned  in  our 
columns. 

77.  "  Now,  I  wonder,"  he  said  irritably,  scratching  his 
head — "  I  wonder  if  this  Mr.  D.  Witherspoon  is  any  kin 
to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue  ?  " 

78.  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  I  replied. 

79.  "  Then  why  the  Sam  Hill  don't  she  say  so  in  the 
first  place  ?  Little  Sunbeam  ain't  been  on  her  job  right 
lately.  Cap.  She  don't  seem  to  have  her  mind  on  her 
business." 

80.  But  a  note  of  renewed  hope  was  sounded  in  a  let- 
ter from  Ivanhoe  received  about  five  days  later: 

81.  "  A  flutter  has  been  caused  in  Ivanhoe's  most  ex- 
clusive social  circles  by  the  arrival  of  a  young  and  hand- 
some visitor  from  the  North.  Though  he  came  without 
warning,  he  has  taken  all  hearts  by  storm  and  is  a  wel- 
come guest  in  our  best  homes.     He  is  Mr.  R.  Thornton 


Little  Sunbeam  237 

Terry,  of  Racine,  Wis.,  and  he  is  stopping  at  the  Alex- 
ander. Besides  being  blessed  with  good  looks  and  a  fund 
of  wit,  Mr.  Terry  is  said  to  be  the  possessor  of  much 
worldly  goods — to  wit,  a  fortune,  inherited  from  his 
grandfather,  who  was  a  large  land-owner  in  Virginia  be- 
fore the  war.  Report  has  it  that  he  and  Miss  Lola  Sparger 
met  at  several  fashionable  dances  while  the  latter  was 
visiting  in  the  jSTorth  last  year,  and  that  the  young  lady 
was  a  house  guest  of  Mr.  Terry's  family  at  their  summer 
home  on  the  Lake.  Welcome  to  our  fair  city,  Mr.  Terry. 
The  whole  world  loves  a  lover." 

82.  Little  Sunbeam  was  less  buoyant  in  a  later  com- 
munication : 

83.  "  Fearful  and  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  men. 
That  which  is  close  at  hand  seldom  holds  any  value  in 
their  eyes.  Also,  it  is  written  that  a  man  seldom  wants  a 
thing  badly  which  he  can  obtain  at  his  will,  but  that  in 
proportion  as  other  men  desire  the  object  too,  so  will  he, 
and  strive  accordingly." 

84.  The  last  paragraph  was  rather  involved,  and  we 
were  at  a  loss  to  determine  its  application  until  the  arrival 
of  her  next  budget : 

85.  "  Friends  of  a  certain  well  known  young  man  of 
the  community  feel  like  cautioning  him  discreetly  against 
the  course  he  is  pursuing  in  regard  to  a  certain  young 
lady  (?)  now  in  our  midst.  She  does  not  care  for  him 
really,  or  she  would  not  treat  him  the  way  she  does,  and 
carry  on  another  affair  with  another  young  man  at  the 
same  time.  Not  content  with  capturing  the  affections  of 
a  dashing  youth  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  great  cities,  she 
must  also  seek  to  ensnare  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting 
young  man  of  excellent  heart  but  poor  judgment — and 


238  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

perhaps   ruin   his  happiness   and   that  of  others!     Who 
knows  ?  " 

86.  "  What  does  she  mean  by  that  ?  "  demanded  Sam 
Bastedo.     "  That  ain't  news." 

87.  ''  Oh,  Lola  Sparger  is  having  some  fun,  that's  all," 
I  told  him. 

88.  Warm  weather  arrived,  and  Little  Sunbeam  re- 
ported from  her  territory: 

89.  "  The  Ivanhoe  team  has  been  organized,  and 
games  with  Windy  City  have  already  been  arranged.  Mr, 
Doc  Kinsella  will  manage  the  team  the  same  as  last  year, 
and,  in  an  exclusive  interview  with  your  correspondent, 
stated  that  they  would  dish  up  an  article  of  ball  to  which 
the  town  could  point  with  pride. 

90.  "  Mr.  Doc  Kinsella,  the  capable  manager  of  the 
baseball  team,  has  unanimously  awarded  the  prize  of  two 
dollars  for  the  best  name  for  his  nine  to  Miss  Bertine 
Biggerstaff.  The  name  she  submitted  is  the  Ivanhoe 
Demons." 

91.  Miss  BiggerstafP  had  named  them  better  than  she 
knew.  Their  first  game  with  Windy  City  was  pulled  off 
the  following  Saturday,  and  this  is  what  we  found  in  our 
mail  on  Monday  morning. 

92.  "  A  disgraceful  occurrence  occurred  here  on  Satur- 
day afternoon  that  will  leave  a  stain  on  the  fair  name  of 
Ivanhoe  as  long  as  Time  endures. 

93.  "  It  was  at  the  baseball  game  between  the  Demons 
• — demons  indeed,  and  fiends  too — and  the  Windy  City 
Tigers.     All  Ivanhoe  was  there. 

94.  "  The  weather  was  warm  and  pleasant,  and  the 
boys  seemed  to  be  on  their  mettle  as  they  romped  about  in 


Little  Sunbeam  239 

the  preliminary  practice.  In  an  exclusive  interview,  just 
before  the  game  started,  Mr.  Doc  Kinsella  told  your  cor- 
respondent that  he  did  not  see  how  the  Demons  could 
lose. 

95.  "  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue,  was  agreed  on  as  umpire, 
and  Deacon  Hoover,  our  mayor,  threw  the  first  ball.  The 
game  began  at  three  o'clock,  after  the  band  had  rendered 
very  acceptably  '  Sailing  Down  Chesapeake  Bay.' 

96.  "  Mr.  Witherspoon  made  the  best  umpire  it  has 
ever  been  the  privilege  of  impartial  observers  to  see  at 
the  local  park,  rendering  his  decisions  in  a  clear,  musical 
voice.  The  Ivanhoe  Demons  scored  runs  as  follows :  One 
in  the  first  inning,  three  in  the  second,  one  in  the  third, 
none  in  the  fourth,  four  in  the  fifth,  and  three  in  the  sixth 
— total  12. 

97.  "  The  Windy  City  Tigers  did  not  do  so  well  at  the 
commencement,  and  failed  to  obtain  any  runs  until  the 
sixth ;  but  during  that  inning  the  Demon  pitcher  grew 
slightly  nervous,  and  the  visitors  piled  up  thirteen  runs 
before  Mr.  Doc  Kinsella  decided  that  he  was  weakening 
and  took  him  out  and  put  another  one  in. 

98.  "  And  now  it  was  the  fatal  seventh.  An  electric 
tension  filled  the  air.  At  times  you  could  hear  a  pin  drop. 
Anon  they  broke  into  tumultuous  applause. 

99.  "  At  this  juncture  Mr.  Hi  Miller  went  to  bat  for 
the  Demons,  with  two  men  on  bases.  The  vast  throng 
yelled  to  him  to  project  it  into  space.  Mr.  Miller  mois- 
tened the  palms  of  his  hands,  grasped  the  bat  firmly,  and 
gave  a  tremendous  blow  to  the  first  ball  pitched  at  him. 
It  went  whizzing  like  a  bullet  down  the  third-base  line, 
and  Mr.  Miller  ran  like  a  streak  of  lightning  to  first  base, 


240  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzkd 

to  second,    to   third,    and    then  lionic,   while   the   Windy 
Tigers  were  furiously  hunting  the  ball  in  the  long  grass. 

100.  "  The  thoughtless  hundreds  leaped  to  their  feet 
and  cheered  until  the  welkin  rang;  but  Mr.  Dupree  With- 
erspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Witherspoon  of  Toney  Ave- 
nue, raised  his  right  arm  and  stilled  the  tumult. 

101.  "' Foul !' he  cried. 

102.  "  And  then  pantomime  broke  loose.  Despite  the 
universal  esteem  in  which  he  has  always  been  held,  and 
the  respect  which,  one  would  think,  his  family's  position 
in  the  community  ought  to  command,  they  turned  against 
Mr.  Witherspoon.  They  hooted  and  jeered.  Some  rough- 
necks from  the  Corners  did  not  hesitate  to  cry,  '  Kill 
him !  Kill  him !  '  and  they  started  to  descend  from  the 
bleachers. 

103.  "  Yet  in  this  crisis  the  dauntless  young  umpire's 
presence  of  mind  did  not  forsake  him.  He  ran  rapidly  to 
the  third-base  line,  glanced  along  it,  and  then  announced 
in  clarion  tones :  '  Fair  ball ! ' 

104.  "  In  this  he  was  but  showing  his  broad-mindedness 
and  following  the  dictates  of  his  conscience ;  but  the 
Windy  City  Tigers  failed  to  take  that  into  consideration. 
They  instantly  gathered  around  him,  running  in  from  all 
sides.  Their  captain  and  outfielders  addressed  him  in  the 
most  disgraceful  terms.  Finally,  to  appease  them,  he  con- 
sented to  be  led  to  the  spot  on  which  they  claimed  the  ball 
had  landed.  And  there,  sure  enough,  was  the  mark  of  the 
spheroid,  plainly  discernible  on  a  clump  of  new  dirt  out- 
side the  foul  line. 

105.  "  What  was  there  for  him  to  do  after  that  ?  He 
did  what  any  honorable  man  would  have  done.  He  did 
his  duty.     Stepping  to  the  front  of  the  grand-stand,  he 


Little  Sunbeam  241 

raised  his  arm  majestically  and  said  in  a  firm,  ringing 
voice:  '  Foul  ball,' 

106.  "  Keliable  citizens  who  were  present  have  in- 
formed your  correspondent  that  the  first  bottle  came  from 
the  bleachers,  where  certain  roughnecks  from  the  Corners, 
who  are  known  to  the  officers,  were  congregated.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  sundry  missiles  were  hurled,  and  a  per- 
fect babel  of  sounds  broke  loose.  Cushions,  bottles,  and 
even  vegetables,  filled  the  air,  and  there  was  a  rush  towards 
Mr.  Witherspoon. 

107.  "  In  this  crisis,  what  did  he  do  ?  Mr.  Wither- 
spoon folded  his  arms  and,  with  a  cold  smile,  waited  for 
the  worst.  I^ext  moment  they  were  all  around  him,  shout- 
ing and  gesticulating. 

108.  "  And  now  comes  the  most  shameful  feature  of 
the  whole  shameful  business.  In  the  front  row  of  the 
grand-stand  sat  a  certain  young  lady  (?)  who  has  been 
for  some  weeks  his  almost  constant  companion  and  con- 
cerning whom  and  Mr.  Witherspoon  there  have  been  many 
exaggerated  rumors.  She  had  taken  him  to  the  game  in 
her  father's  automobile,  but  was  sitting  with  his  rival  in 
her  affections,  a  certain  young  capitalist  from  the  ISTorth. 

109.  "  And  guess  what  this  young  lady  (  ?)  did !  In- 
stead of  going  boldly  to  his  relief  and  taking  her  post  by 
his  side,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  gave 
way  to  unwomanly  fears. 

110.  "  Only  for  the  prompt  intervention  of  Miss  Ber- 
tine  Biggerstaff,  aided  by  Reverend  White,  who  was  also 
present,'  it  is  probable  that  Mr.  Witherspoon  would  have 
been  seriously  injured.  She  sprang  up  and  advanced 
from  her  seat  without  fear,  and  stood  in  front  of  him,  con- 
fronting the  rabble  who  menaced  his  person. 


242  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

111.  "  '  You  cowards! '  she  cried.  '  To  strike  an  un- 
armed man  thus ! ' 

112.  "  Some  of  the  men  began  to  cheer,  but  the  more 
heedless  laughed,  and  another  strong  rush  was  made  that 
separated  her  from  him. 

113.  "  '  Get  him  away  somehow,'  Reverend  White  ad- 
vised. '  We  must  get  Dupree  home  or  they  will  do  him 
an  injury.' 

114.  "  Seeing  that  resistance  would  be  futile  and  all 
expostulation  vain  in  their  excited  state,  Mr.  Wither- 
spoon  wisely  abandoned  his  efforts  to  appease  the  mob, 
and  turned  about.  Ever  swift  of  foot,  he  reached  the 
gate  a  safe  distance  in  the  lead;  then,  turning  there,  he 
defied  them,  one  and  all. 

115.  "  '  I  call  the  game,'  he  shouted  with  the  full 
power  of  his  lungs.  '  I  call  the  game  and  award  it  to 
Windy  City.' 

116.  "  Again  they  surged  forward  with  a  roar,  and  he 
disappeared  along  the  road  leading  to  town,  the  frenzied 
hoodlums  in  close  pursuit. 

117.  "  It  was  at  this  critical  moment  that  Miss  Ber- 
tine  Biggerstaff  had  another  inspiration.  The  automobile 
belonging  to  Mr.  Dink  Sparger,  and  which  had  been  used 
by  Miss  Lola  Sparger  to  come  to  the  game,  was  standing 
outside  the  gate  in  charge  of  their  colored  yard-man. 

118.  "  Leaping  lightly  into  same,  she  imperiously  com- 
manded the  negro  to  drive  with  all  speed  to  the  rescue. 
At  first  he  demurred,  but  she  was  not  to  be  denied.  By 
promises  of  rich  reward  she  succeeded  in  persuading  him 
to  start  the  car. 

119.  "  The  magnificent  machine  leaped  forward  like  a 
thing   alive, — there   is   no   denying  that   automobiles   are 


Little  Sunbeam  243 

very  useful  and  have  probably  come  to  stay, — and  they 
overtook  the  mob  at  the  corner  of  Main  and  Fannin  streets, 
where  they  had  halted,  at  a  loss.  Their  prey  had  disap- 
peared as  though  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up,  and 
they  were  hunting  in  every  direction. 

120.  "  An  intuition  for  which  she  is  unable  to  account 
prompted  Miss  Biggerstaff  to  walk  quietly  down  the  lane 
in  rear  of  Deacon  Hoover's  abode.  And  there  on  the 
porch,  behind  the  ice-box,  was  the  well  known  form  of 
Mr.  Witherspoon.  Nobody  was  near  to  observe.  She  sig- 
naled to  him,  and  he  joyfully  permitted  her  to  approach. 

121.  "  It  was  decided  that  they  should  appeal  to  Mrs. 
Hoover  for  sanctuary,  inasmuch  as  he  had  once  been  in- 
strumental in  saving  her  life,  and  this  was  done.  She 
readily  agreed  to  hide  him  until  the  crowd  dispersed. 

122.  "  The  leaders  of  the  perpetrators  of  this  outrage 
are  known  to  many,  and  condign  punishment  will  be  meted 
out  to  them." 

123.  This  was  hot  stuff,  but  her  next  letter  was  equally 
startling : 

124.  "  Our  peaceful  community  has  been  profoundly 
agitated  by  discovery  of  a  romance  which  came  to  light 
accidentally. 

125.  "  Miss  Lola  Sparger,  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dink  Sparger,  left  town  early  Monday  morning  in  the 
family  automobile  and  drove  to  Windy  City.  And  there 
she  met — by  previous  arrangement,  it  is  said — a  certain 
young  man  who  had  been  visiting  in  our  midst  of  late, 
Mr.  R.  Thornton  Terry.  The  couple  repaired  immedi- 
ately to  the  residence  of  Reverend  J.  Schoonover,  and  at 
the  hour  of  twelve  noon  were  united  in  the  holy  bonds  of 


244:  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

matrimony.  And  so  endoth  an  affair  that  has  given  rise 
to  more  conjecture  and  talk  than  most  anything  previously 
occurring  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant. 

126.  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Terry  left  on  the  Limited  later 
for  Denison,  from  where  the  bride  telegraphed  her  father 
what  she  had  done,  asking  forgiveness  and  his  blessing. 
Mr.  Sparger  left  at  once  in  a  hired  automobile  to  be  at  her 
side,  and  it  is  rumored  that  the  young  couple  will  return 
shortly  to  Ivanhoe  and  take  up  their  residence  with  the 
bride's  parents. 

127.  "  But  that  is  not  all— far  from  it !  Mr.  Terry 
is  not  a  capitalist.  His  grandfather  never  owned  tracts 
of  land  in  Virginia  before  the  war,  and  never  even  lived 
in  Virginia.  In  fact,  nobody  knows  whether  he  ever  had 
a  grandfather.  He  is  really  a  book  agent,  and  the  reports 
that  he  met  Miss  Sparger  at  fashionable  dances  in  the 
North  are  without  foundation.  Equally  untrue  are  the 
stories  that  she  visited  at  his  mother's  summer  home  on 
the  Lake.  She  met  him  on  the  train  during  her  last  trip 
home,  and  she  had  never  even  seen  him  before. 

128.  "  But  all's  well  that  ends  well.  The  Booster  ex- 
tends to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Terry  congratulations  and  best 
wishes  for  a  happy  married  life." 

129.  If  we  were  flabbergasted  by  this  news,  judge  of 
our  amazement  and  delight  on  receiving,  a  month  later, 
the  following: 

130.  "  For  more  than  an  hour  the  mighty  multitude 
sat  in  pensive  silence,  as  if  entranced  by  the  rare  and 
redolent  perfume  of  flowers,  waiting  for  the  hand  of  Time 
to  point  his  index  finger  to  the  appointed  hour.  Just  at 
8 :  30  every  soul  seemed  to  tingle  with  exquisite  elation  at 
the  first  mesmeric  tinkle  of  marriage  bells  and  the  rolling 


Little  Sunbeam  245 

of  the  wedding  march  in  full  diapason.  Then  the  still- 
ness that  ached  was  suddenly  broken  by  the  appearance 
of  the  attendants. 

131.  "  Following  at  intervals,  as  the  tick  of  the  clock, 
the  entire  bridal  party  strolled  in,  seventeen  in  number, 
and  took  their  places  at  the  matrimonial  altar  to  witness 
the  climacteric  consummation  of  the  divine  compact.  The 
bride.  Miss  Bertine  Lee  BiggerstafF,  daughter  of  the  late 
Boyce  Biggerstaff  and  Mrs.  Biggerstaff  of  Cedar  Street, 
entered  on  the  arm  of  her  uncle,  Mr.  W.  J.  Stier  of  Windy 
City.  She  wore  &n  exquisite  white  satin  dress  trimmed 
with  seed  pearls,  a  tulle  veil  and  orange  blossoms,  and  car- 
ried a  handsome  bouquet  of  lily-of-the-valley. 

132.  "  Lmnediately  after  the  solemn  ceremony,  the 
bridal  party,  together  with  relatives  and  friends,  accom- 
panied the  bride  and  groom  to  the  home  of  the  bride's 
mother,  where  they  were  doubly  delighted  by  debonair 
delicacies  and  gladsome  congratulations.  It  seemed  to  the 
guests  that  they  were  partaking  of  ambrosia  and  nectar. 
Indeed,  each  participant  might  have  exclaimed  with  Mil- 
ton, the  Blind  Bard: 

I  scent  the  air 

Of  blessings  when  I  come  but  near  the  house. 
What  delicious  breath  marriage  sends  forth ! 
The  violet  beds  no  sweeter. 

133.  "  The  happy  couple  left  on  the  midnight  train  for 
Galveston  and  other  Southern  points,  and  after  the  honey- 
moon will  take  up  their  residence  in  Ivanhoe." 

134.  Now,  that  was  what  Little  Sunbeam  sent — a  full 
and  pleasing  account  of  the  wedding  of  Miss  Bertine  Big- 


246  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

gerstaff,  but  not  so  much  as  mention  of  the  bridegroom's 
name !  It  cost  us  twenty-six  cents  for  a  telegram  to  ascer- 
tain this  information.     Back  came  the  answer: 

135.  "  Mr.  Dupree  Witherspoon,  son  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Witherspoon  of  Toney  Avenue." 

136.  And  I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  Doubts  of  the  hap- 
piness of  that  couple  were  idle  and  foolish ;  she  would  not 
spoil  Dupree ;  already  she  had  him  tagged  exactly  where 
he  belonged. 

137.  But  in  came  Sam  Bastedo,  trembling  with  the 
triumph  of  a  discovery. 

138.  "  Cap,"  he  said,  holding  Little  Sunbeam's  copy 
in  his  hand,  "  I  been  thinking.  And  I  sort  of  got  the  idea 
that  Little  Sunbeam  might  be  this  here  Miss  Bertine  Big- 
gerstaff.     Do  you  reckon  she  is  ?  " 

139.  "  It  wouldn't  surprise  me." 

140.  ''  Then,"  declared  Sam,  "  it  behooves  us  to  do 
something  for  her.  It  behooves  us  to  buy  her  a  li'l'  pres- 
ent or  something.  What  do  you  say  ?  I'll  go  in  on  it  for 
four  bits." 

141.  "  It  sure  do  behoove,"  I  replied. 

142.  And  that  was  why  we  went  out  and  bought  a  cut- 
glass  bonbon  dish  for  Little  Sunbeam  and  sent  her  three 
years'  subscription  to  the  Booster  gratis. 


THE  LAST  ROSE  OF  SUMMER 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer "  is  another  of  the 
stories  in  which  plot-impression  is  not  the  governing  aim. 
Hence  the  plot  retires  from  prominence,  constituting  itself 
the  supporting  framework  only  on  which  other  impression- 
elements  are  carried,  and  not  attracting  attention  to  itself. 
Theme  is  the  basis  of  the  story,  with  character  (largely 
types)  and  atmosphere  as  its  attendant  elements.  Con- 
sequently, concentrative  material  forms  a  considerable 
part  of  the  narrative  (S.  S.  M.,  107:30-34).  The  plot 
itself  comprises  merely  the  quiet,  unsensational  incidents 
involved  in  Debby's  delayed  blossoming  forth ;  the  con- 
flict is  merely  that  between  the  influence  of  her  past  and 
the  fate  of  dull  spinsterhood  to  which  it  seemingly  con- 
demns her,  opposed  to  the  instincts,  buoyancy,  and  strength 
of  her  true  nature  as  these  develop  and  thrive  under  favor- 
ing conditions ;  and  the  outcome  is  her  transformation  into 
an  attractive  and  desirable  woman.  The  essential  inci- 
dents of  this  plot  are  her  finding,  under  the  pressure  of 
necessity,  an  employment  that  gives  her  opportunity  to  de- 
velop, and  those  of  her  responding  to  the  stimulus  of  her 
new  circumstances ;  and  even  these  few  we  are  made  to 
realize  almost  entirely  through  intensifying  details  intro- 
duced to  exemplify  and  emphasize  them.  Concentrative 
material  is  therefore  distinctly  the  dominant  impression- 
means  throughout — a  fact  that  accounts  largely  for  the 
atmosphere  quality  in  the  story. 

247 


248  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

2.  As  the  theme  is  one  that  asserts  a  contrast,  the  em- 
phasis throughout  the  story  is  laid  on  contrast.  Sym- 
holically  the  anti-theme  (S.  S.  M.,  G9  footnote)  is  pre- 
sented in  the  song  (par.  18)  ;  and  the  theme  is  definitely 
thongh  figuratively  stated  by  Debby's  heterodox  comment 
in  par.  23.  There  is  strong  contrast  between  the  women, 
represented  by  Josie  and  Birdaline,  who  are  midsummer 
roses,  and  Debby's  less  frequent  type,  "  blooming  alone  " 
in  splendor  after  the  others  are  "  faded  and  gone."  There 
is  a  minor  but  effective  contrast  between  the  girl  Pamela, 
just  opening  from  the  bud  for  her  own  midsummer 
flourishing,  and  Debby's  matured  perfection.  There  is 
contrast  of  Asaph  and  "  Old  Crawford  "  with  ISTewt  Mel- 
drum,  who  is  of  their  age  but  not  of  their  agedness.  There 
is  contrast  between  Debby  as  she  was  and  Debby  as  she 
became.  And  there  can  be  felt  even  a  contrast  between 
the  small-town  standards  and  life  that,  like  a  premature 
and  hurrying  summer,  bring  human  plants  too  early  to  an 
ephemeral  maturity,  followed  by  too  early  a  decline,  and 
those  other  standards  which  sanction  and  produce  a  less 
unnatural  and  wasteful  life-cycle.  It  will  be  noted  that 
intensifying  material  in  considerable  amounts  is  indis- 
pensable in  thus  emphasizing  contrasts.  (Other  examples 
of  the  employment  of  contrast  will  be  found  in  "  The  De- 
fective," "  The  Great  God,"  "  The  Opal  Morning,"  "  In 
the  Matter  of  Distance,"  "  A  Rag-Time  Lady,"  "  A  Quiet 
Life.") 

3.  The  narrative  is  one  of  leisurely  opening  and  of 
leisurely  progress.  The  theme  is  not  presented  until  the 
twenty-third  paragraph,  and  even  then  is  not  at  once  rec- 
ognized as  the  theme.  The  exciting  moment  and  generat- 
ing circumstances  are  not  introduced  until  par.  74.     This 


The  Last  Eose  of  Summee  249 

leisurely  movement  is  in  agreement  with  the  theme  itself, 
which  is  reflective  and  j)hilosophical,  and  with  the  de- 
mands of  the  impression-materials  employed,  which  call 
for  calm,  unimpassioned  presentation  and  a  mood  of  quiet 
appreciation.  Comparison  of  this  story  with  "Tropics" 
and  "  That  Hahnheimer  Story  "  with  reference  to  move- 
ment will  increase  one's  appreciation  of  the  importance  of 
movement  in  creating  the  proper  response  to  the  narrative ; 
"  Tropics,"  for  instance,  could  not  possibly  benefit  from 
a  more  leisurely  presentation ;  nor  could  "  The  Last  Eose  " 
benefit  from  being  told  with  a  nervous,  high-speed  move- 
ment. 

4.  "  The  Last  Eose  of  Summer  "  is  also  a  story  in  which 
social  characterization  (S.  S.  M.,  257)  can  be  profitably 
studied;  cf.  "The  Opal  Morning,"  "The  Defective," 
"  In  the  Matter  of  Distance,"  "  An  Epilogue,"  "  Little 
Sunbeam,"  "  A  Eag-Time  Lady,"  "  The  Great  God,"  for 
other  instances.  "  Little  Sunbeam "  affords  the  most 
obvious  parallel,  as  both  stories  characterize  or  interpret 
small-town  life  and  viewpoints.  Both  accomplish  the  char- 
acterization by  presenting  types ;  but  "  The  Last  Eose  " 
goes  somewhat  further  in  accompanying  the  type-presenta- 
tion W'ith  individualized  characterization.  See  S.  S.  M., 
208:2-3;  217:4-5. 

5.  The  organization  of  the  plot  is  one  of  particular  in- 
terest, about  which  one  can  hold  either  of  two  theories — 
that  the  actional  rise  of  the  story  (once  it  is  reached)  fol- 
lows in  a  general  way  the  usual  course  of  development 
from  exciting  moment  to  conclusive  outcome,  or  that  this 
actional  part  begins  with  the  decisive  moment  and  con- 
sists of  the  falling  action  only.  For  more  detailed  con- 
sideration, see  the  running  notes,  especially  on  pars.  77-97. 


250  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

6.  The  principle  of  distributed  detail  is  followed ;  iii- 
tegi'ation  of  brief  items  of  exposition  and  other  illinnina- 
tivo  or  motivatini^  detail  with  the  running  narrative  is 
exceedingly  skillful.     See  the  notes  on  the  text. 

7.  Aside  from  its  admirable  simplicity,  precision,  sin- 
cerity, and  straightforwardness,  the  style  also  deserves 
notice  for  the  apt  and  vivid  words  used  on  occasion,  and 
for  the  propriety  and  descriptive  force  of  some  of  its 
comparisons,  drawn  from  the  life  and  environment  with 
which  the  story  itself  deals. 

8.  The  story  may  be  taken  as  a  good  and  spontaneous 
example  of  "  realism."  There  are  plenty  of  definitions  of 
this  term,  all  alike  in  one  respect :  none  of  them  satisfac- 
torily covers  all  instances,  agrees  with  the  others,  or  is 
quite  clear  in  itself.  As  here  employed,  the  term  is  meant 
to  indicate  method  rather  than  resultant  quality — merely 
the  choice  of  representative  details  that  belong  to  the  char- 
acteristically prevailing  aspects  of  the  particular  phase  of 
life  dealt  with.  (Sir  Thomas  Malory's  method  in  the 
Morte  Darthur  was  realistic  in  this  sense:  he  chose  the 
details  that  belonged  to  the  usual,  or  everyday,  aspects  of 
chivalry  as  he  conceived  chivalry  to  be.)  It  happens,  how- 
ever, that  the  phase  of  life  dealt  with  by  Captain  Hughes 
belongs  to  an  ordinary  level  of  very  ordinary  social  states, 
thus  being  "  realistic  "  in  that  sense  also. 


THE  LAST  ROSE  OF  SUMMER 

By  Rupeet  Hughes 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from 
"The  Metropolitan"  for  March,  1914  (Copyrighted  1914),  and  of 
Harper  Brothers  (Copyrighted  1914). 

1.  As  Mrs.  Shillaber  often  said,  the  one  good  thing 
about  her  old  house  was  the  fact  that  "  you  could  throw 
the  dining-room  into  the  poller  "  when  you  wanted  to  give 
parties  or  funerals  or  weddings  or  such  things.  You  had 
only  to  fold  up  the  accordion-pleated  doors,  push  the  sofa 
back  against  the  wall  and  lay  a  rug  over  the  register. 

2.  Tonight  she  had  "  thrown  the  dining-room  into  the 
poller  "  and  filled  both  rooms  with  guests.  There  were  so 
many  guests  that  they  occupied  every  seat  in  the  house, 
including  the  upstairs  chairs  and  a  large  batch  of  camp- 
stools  from  Mr.  Crankshaw's — the  undertaker's. 


1-8.  Coneentrative  material.  It  strikes  the  keynote  of  mood 
and  narrative  tone  (S.  S.  M.,  124:  4-6;  127:  9-11)  and  of  charac- 
terization (type  and  social).  (A  review  of  S.  S.  M.,  122-151,  on 
openings,  will  not  be  amiss.)  Consider  the  names  chosen  for  dif- 
ferent persons  with  reference  to  their  local-color  and  their 
character-hinting  effect;  appreciation  of  their  truthfulness  m 
local-color  will  result  from  studying  a  representative  list  of  names 
in  almost  any  American  community  (tax-roll,  town  directory, 
church  roll,  etc.).  The  amusing,  sometimes  grotesque,  results  of 
romantic  sentiment  exercising  itself  in  a  matter-of-fact  society 
is  seen  in  such  combinations  as  Birdaline  Duddy ;  such  combina- 
tions turn  up  frequently  enough  everywhere  to  be  typical  of  a 
well-known  sentimentality  among  commonplace  though  worthy 
women  of  all  classes,  though  it  is  found  most  among  those  of  the 

251 


252  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

3.  In  Carthage  it  was  never  a  real  party  or  an  impor- 
tant funeral  unless  those  perilous  old  mantraps  of  Mr. 
Cranksha^Y's  appeared.  They  always  added  a  dash  of  ex- 
citement to  the  dullest  evening,  for  at  a  critical  moment 
one  of  them  could  he  depended  upon  to  collapse  heneath 
some  guest,  depositing  him  or  her  in  a  small  but  compli- 
cated wood-pile  on  the  floor. 

4.  Less  dramatic,  but  even  droller,  was  the  unfailing 
spectacle  of  the  solemn  man  who  entered  a  room  carrying 
one  of  these  stools,  neatly  folded,  proceeded  to  a  chosen 
spot  and  there  attempted  vainly  to  open  the  thing.  This 
was  sure  to  happen  at  least  once  and  it  gave  an  irresistibly 
light  touch  even  to  the  funerals. 

5.  Tonight  at  Mrs.  Shillaber's  the  evening  might  be 
said  to  be  well  under  way;  fat  Mr.  Geggat  had  already 
splashed  through  his  camp-stool  and  Deacon  Peavey  was 
now  at  work  on  his ;  a  snicker  had  just  sneezed  out  of  the 
minister's  wife  (of  all  people!)  and  the  deacon  himself 
had  breathed  an  expletive  dangerously  close  to  pro- 
fanity. 

6.  The  party  was  held  in  honor  of  Mrs.  Shillaber's 
girlhood  friend,  Birdaline  Nickerson  (now  Mrs.  Phineas 
Buddy).  Birdaline  and  Mrs.  Shillaber  (then  Josie  Bar- 
low) had  been  fierce  rivals  for  the  love  of  Asaph  Shillaber. 

"  lower  middle  "  class — the  class  with  which  "  The  Last  Rose  "  has 
to  do.  (Some  of  Mr.  Hughes's  best  work  has  been  done  in  char- 
acterizing persons  and  society  of  this  class  in  the  Western  small 
town.) — Note  that  the  details  employed  to  procure  the  desired 
effects  are  not  unusual  and  unfamiliar  matters,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, such  things  as  everybody  is  familiar  with.  Their  char- 
acterizing and  interpreting  effect  comes  from  the  fact  that  the 
author  has  vitalized  them  by  making  them  the  prominent  details 
in  a  portrayal  that  we  immediately  recognize  as  accurate.  AH 
successful  realistic  presentation  employs  this  method. 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  253 

Josie  had  got  liim  away  from  Birdaline  and  Birdaline  bad 
married  Phin  Duddy  for  spite. 

7.  Luck  had  smiled  on  Birdaline,  and  Phin  had  moved 
away — to  Peoria,  no  less !  And  now  they  were  back  on  a 
visit  to  his  folks. 

8.  Peoria  had  done  wonders  for  Phin.  Everybody  said 
that;  and  Birdaline  also  brought  along  a  grown-up  daugh- 
ter, Pamela,  who  was  evidently  beautiful  and,  according 
to  her  mother,  a  highly  accomplished  vocalist. 

9.  It  seemed  strange  to  Birdaline  and  Josie  to  meet 
after  all  these  years  and  be  jealous  not  of  each  other,  but 
of  daughters  as  big  as  they  themselves  had  been  the  last 
time  they  had  seen  each  other.  Each  woman  told  the  other 
that  she  looked  younger  than  ever,  and  each  saw  the  pil- 
lage of  time  in  the  opposite  mien,  the  accretion  of  time  in 
the  once  so  gracile  figure.  It  was  melancholy  satisfaction 
at  best,  for  each  knew  all  too  well  how  her  own  mirror 
slapped  her  in  the  face  with  her  own  image. 

10.  Of  course  Josie  had  to  ask  Birdaline's  daughter  to 


9-27.  In  the  first  eight  paragraplis,  the  setting  has  been  pre- 
pared for  the  immediate  activity  (S.  S.  M.,  37:  4)  and  the  atmos- 
phere quality  for  the  entire  narrative  conveyed.  Pars.  9-27  now 
leisurely  increase  our  acquaintance  with  persons  and  episodes  that 
contribute  local  color  or  are  involved  in  the  unfolding  of  the 
theme;  works  in  the  anti-theme  through  the  episode  of  Pamela's 
singing;  and  definitely  introduces  the  central  person,  Debby — 
incidentally  and  artfully  putting  into  her  mouth  the  figurative 
statement  of  the  theme  itself  which  her  coming  experience  is  to 
establish.  Finally,  it  opens  the  way  for  the  exposition  (28-36) 
of  her  past  life  and  the  indication  of  her  present  status — with 
herself  and  in  her  home  existence,  and  with  the  people  of 
Carthage  (that  is,  the  women,  since  it  is  largely  the  women  who 
legislate  upon  the  status  to  be  permitted  other  women  in  such 
communities). 


254-  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

sing.  And  the  girl,  being  of  the  new  and  rather  startling 
school  of  manners  which  accedes  without  undue  urging, 
blushinglj  consented,  provided  there  was  any  music  there 
that  she  could  sing  and  someone  would  play  her  accom- 
pa'ment. 

11.  A  tattered  copy  of  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  " 
was  unearthed,  and  Mr.  Norman  Maugans,  who  played 
the  melodeon  at  the  Presbyterian  prayer  meetings,  was 
mobbed  into  essaying  the  accomj)a'ment.  He  was  no  great 
shucks  at  sight-reading,  he  said,  but  he  would  do  his 
durnedest. 

12.  The  news  that  the  pretty  and  novel  Miss  Duddy 
would  sing  brought  all  the  guests  forward  in  a  huddle  like 
cattle  at  home-coming  time.  Even  Deacon  Peavey  gave 
up  his  vow  to  open  that  camp-stool  or  die  and  sat  down 
in  a  draught  to  listen.  The  perspiration  cooled  on  him 
and  he  caught  a  terrible  cold — but  that  was  Mrs.  Peavey's 
business,  not  ours. 

13.  Miss  Pamela  Duddy  sidled  into  the  elbow  of  the 
piano  with  a  most  attractive  kittenishness  and  waited  for 
the  prelude  to  be  done.  This  required  some  time,  since 
the  ancient  sheet  music  had  a  distressing  habit  of  folding 
over  and,  as  it  were,  swooning  from  the  rack  into  the 
pianist's  arms.  Besides,  Mr.  Maugans  was  so  used  to 
playing  the  melodeon  that  instead  of  tapping  the  keys  he 
was  continually  squeezing  them,  and  nothing  came.  And 
when  he  wished  to  increase  his  volume  of  tone  he  would 
hold  his  hands  still  and  slowly  open  his  knees  against 
swell-levers  that  were  not  there.  This  earnest  futility 
gave  so  much  amusement  to  Josie's  youngest  daughter  that 
she  had  to  be  eyed  out  of  the  room  by  her  mother. 

14.  Miss  Pamela  bent  her  pretty  head  and  took  from 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  255 

her  juvenile  breast  one  big  red  rose  and  held  it  in  her 
hands  while  she  sang.  During  the  final  stanza  she  plucked 
away  its  j^etals  one  by  one  and  at  the  end  let  the  shredded 
core  fall  ui^on  the  highly  improbable  roses  woven  in  Josie's 
American  Wilton  carpet. 

15.  The  girl's  features  and  her  attitudes  were  sheer 
Grecian ;  her  accent  was  the  purest  Peoria.  Now  and  then 
she  remembered  to  insert  an  Italian  "  a,"  but  she  forgot 
to  suppress  the  Italian  "  r,"  which  is  exactly  the  same  as 
that  of  Illinois,  but  lacks  its  context  or  prestige.  Her 
fresh,  uncultivated  voice  was  less  faithful  to  the  key  than 
to  her  exquisite  throat.  To  that  same  exquisite  throat 
clung  one  fascinated  eje  of  Mr.  Maugans,  "svhose  other  orb 
angrily  glowered  at  the  music  as  if  to  overawe  it.  Had  he 
possessed  a  third  eye  it  might  have  guided  his  hands  along 
the  keyboard  with  more  accuracy;  but  this  detail  could 
have  affected  the  result  but  little,  since  his  hands  were  in- 
cessantly compelled  to  clutch  the  incessantly  deciduous 
music  and  slap  it  back  on  the  rack. 

16.  Two  stanzas  had  thus  been  punctuated  before  a 
shy  old  maid  named  Deborah  Larrabee  ventured  to  rise 
and  stand  at  the  piano,  supporting  the  music.  This  com- 
pelled her  to  a  closer  proximity  to  a  nice  young  man  than 
she  had  known  for  so  many  years  that  she  almost  out- 
blushed  the  young  girl. 

17.  Deborah  was  afraid  to  look  at  anybody,  yet  when 
she  cast  her  eyes  downward  she  had  to  watch  those  emo- 
tional knees  of  Mr.  Maugans  slowly  parting  in  the 
crescendo  that  never  came. 

18.  But  the  audience  was  friendly,  and  the  composer 
and  the  poet  were  too  dead  to  gyrate  in  their  distant 
graves.     The  song  therefore  had  unmitigated  success  and 


256  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  words  were  so  familiar  that  everybody  knew  pretty 
well  what  Pamela  was  driving  at  when  she  sang: 

'Tis  thuh  lah-ha-ha  strow  zof  sum-mah 
Le-ef  bloo-oo-hoo-minning  uh-lone; 
Aw  lur  lu-uli-uli  vice  come-pan-yun 
Zah-har  fay-ay-yay  dud  ahnd  gawn-n-n-n. 
No-woe  flow-wurrr  rof  her  kinnn-driid, 
No-woe  ro-hose  buh  dis  ni-eye-eye-eye-eye-eye, 
To  re-fle-eh-ee'  bah-ciirblu-shuzz 
Aw-hor  gi-yi-hiv  su-high  for  su-high ! 

There  was  hardly  a  dry  eye  or  a  protesting  ear  in  the 
throng  as  she  reached  the  climax. 

19.  The  girl's  mother  was  not  hard  to  find  among  the 
applauding  auditors.  She  looked  like  the  wrecked  last 
September's  rose  of  which  her  daughter  was  the  next 
June's  bud.  The  softened  mood  of  Birdaline  and  the  tears 
that  bedewed  her  cheeks  gave  her  back  just  enough  of  the 
beauty  she  had  had  to  emphasize  how  much  she  had 
lost. 

20.  And  Josie,  her  quondam  rival  in  the  garden,  was 
sweetened  by  melancholy,  too.  It  was  not  hospitality 
alone,  nor  mere  generosity,  but  a  passing  sympathy  that 
warmed  her  tone  as  she  squeezed  Birdaline's  arm  and  told 
her  how  well  her  daughter  had  sung. 

21.  A  number  of  matrons  felt  the  same  attar  of  regret 
in  the  air.  They  had  been  beautiful  in  their  days  and  in 
their  ways,  and  now  they  felt  like  the  dismantled  rose  on 
the  floor.  The  common  tragedy  of  beauty  belated  and 
foredone  saddened  everybody  in  the  room ;  the  old  women 
had  experienced  it ;  the  young  women  foresaw  it ;  the  men 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  257 

knew  it  as  the  destruction  of  the  beauties  they  loved  or 
had  loved.    Everybody  was  sad  but  Deborah  Larrabee. 

22.  That  homely  little  spinster  slipped  impudently  into 
the  elbow  of  the  piano,  into  the  place  still  warm  from  the 
presence  of  Pamela,  and  she  railed  at  the  sorrow  of  her 
schoolmates,  Josie  and  Birdaline.  Her  voice  was  as  sharp 
as  the  old  piano  strings. 

23.  "  That  song's  all  wrong,  seems  to  me,  girls.  Pretty 
toon  and  nice  words,  but  I  can't  make  out  why  everybody 
feels  sorry  for  the  last  rose  of  summer.  It's  the  luckiest 
rose  in  the  world.  The  rest  of  'em  have  bloomed  too  soon 
or  just  when  all  the  other  roses  are  blooming,  or  when 
people  are  sort  of  tired  of  roses.  But  this  one  is  saved  up 
till  the  last.  And  then  when  the  garden  is  all  dying  out 
and  the  bushes  are  just  dead  stalks  and  the  other  roses  are 
wilted  and  brown,  and  folks  say  '  I'd  give  anything  for 
the  sight  of  a  rose,'  along  comes  this  rose  and — blooms 
alone !     Seems  to  me  it  has  the  laugh  on  all  the  rest." 

24.  This  heresy  had  the  usual  success  of  attacks  on 
sacred  texts ;  the  orthodox  paid  no  heed  to  the  value  of  the 
argument ;  they  simply  resented  its  impudence.  But  all 
they  said  to  Deborah  was  an  indulgent,  "  That's  so, 
Debby,"  and  a  polite,  "  I  never  thought  of  that." 

25.  As  Deborah  turned  away  triumphant  to  repeat 
what  she  had  just  said  to  Mrs.  Maugans,  she  overheard 
Birdaline  murmur  to  Josie  in  a  kinship  of  contempt, 
"  Poor  old  Debby !  " 

26.  And  Josie  consented,  "  She  can't  understand !  She 
never  was  a  rose." 

27.  It  was  as  if  Birdaline  and  Josie  had  slipped  a 
knife  under  Deborah's  left  shoulder  blade  and  pushed  it 
into  her  heart.     She  felt  a  mortal  wound.     She  clung  to 


258  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  piano  and  remembered  something  she  had  overheard 
Josie  say  in  exactly  that  tone  far  back  in  that  primeval 
epoch  when  Debby  had  been  sixteen — as  sweetless  a  six- 
teen as  a  girl  ever  endured. 

28.  On  that  memorable  night  Birdaline  had  given  a 
party  and  Deborah  had  gone.  No  fellows  had  taken  her; 
but  then  Birdaline  lived  just  across  the  street  from 
Deborah,  and  Debby  could  run  right  over  unnoticed  and 
run  home  alone  safely  afterward.  Debby  was  safe  any- 
where where  it  w^as  not  too  dark  to  see  her.  Her  face  was 
her  chaperon. 

29.  Asaph  Shillaber  took  Josie  to  Birdaline's  party 
that  night,  and  he  danced  three  times  with  Debby.  Each 
time — as  she  knew  and  pretended  not  to  know — he  had 
come  to  her  because  of  a  mix-up  in  his  program,  or  because 
she  was  the  only  girl  left  without  a  partner.  But  a  dance 
was  a  dance,  and  Asaph  was  awful  light  on  his  feet,  for 
all  he  was  so  big. 

30.  After  she  had  danced  the  third  time  with  him  he 
led  her  hastily  to  a  chair  against  the  stairway — deposited 
her  like  an  umbrella  and  left  her.  She  did  not  mind  his 
desertion,  but  sat  panting  with  the  breathlessness  of  the 
dance  and  with  the  joy  of  having  been  in  Asaph's  arms. 
Then  she  heard  low  voices  on  the  stairway,  voices  back  of 
her,  just  above  her  head.  She  knew  them  perfectly.  Josie 
was  attacking  Asaph  because  he  had  danced  three  times 
with  Birdaline. 

31.  "But  she's  the  hostess!"  Asaph  had  retorted. 
"  Besides,  I  danced  with  Deb  Larrabee  three  times,  too. 
Why  don't  you  fuss  about  that  ?  " 

32.  Deborah  perked  an  anxious  ear  to  hear  how  Josie 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  259 

would  accept  this  rivalry,  and  Josie's  answer  fell  into  her 
ear  like  poison. 

33.  "  Deb  Larrabee !  Humph.  You  can  dance  with 
that  old  thing  till  the  cows  come  home  and  I  won't  mind. 
But  you  can't  take  me  to  a  party  and  dance  three  times 
with  Birdaline  Nickerson.  You  can't,  and  that's  all.  So 
there !  " 

34.  Deborah  did  not  linger  to  hear  the  result  of  the 
war  that  was  sure  to  be  waged.  There  was  no  strength  for 
curiosity  in  her  soul.  She  wanted  to  crawl  off  into  a  cel- 
lar and  cower  in  the  rubbish  like  a  sick  cat.  Josie's 
opinion  of  her  was  a  ferocious  condemnation  for  any 
woman-thing  to  hear.  It  was  her  epitaph.  It  damned 
her,  past,  present,  and  future.  She  sneaked  home  without 
telling  anybody  good-by. 

35.  That  was  long  ago,  and  now  after  all  these  years 
— ^years  that  had  proved  the  truth  of  Josie's  estimate  of 
her — even  now  Deborah  must  hear  again  the  same  relent- 
less verdict  as  before.  Time  had  not  improved  her,  nor 
brought  her  luck  or  lover,  husband  or  child. 

36.  She  had  thought  that  she  had  grown  used  to  her- 
self and  her  charmless  lot,  but  the  wound  began  to  bleed 
afresh.  She  had  the  same  impulse  to  take  flight.  But 
her  escape  was  checked  by  a  little  excitement. 

37.  There  were  evidences  that  refreshments  were  about 
to  be  served.  Chicken  salad  and  ice-cream  were  not  fre- 
quent enough  in  Deborah's  life  to  be  overlooked.  Dis- 
paragement and  derision  were  her  everyday  porridge.  Ice- 
cream was  a  party.     So  she  lingered. 

38.  The  Shillabers'  hired  girl  in  a  clean  apron  and  a 


38.    Attention  is  called  to  this  paragraph  merely  because  it  rep- 
resents a  fragment  of  the  details  of  characterizing,  portraying, 


260  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

coiniilete  armor  of  blushes  appeared  at  the  dining-room 
door  and  beckoned.  Josic  sinnnioncd  her  more  than  will- 
ing children  to  pass  the  plates.  She  nodded  to  Asaph  to 
come  and  roll  the  ice-cream  freezer  into  place  and  scrape 
off  the  salty  ice.  Then  she  waylaid  him  in  the  kitchen 
and  assailed  him  for  paying  too  much  attention  to  Birda- 
line.  lie  did  not  realize  what  a  luxurious  return  to  youth 
it  was  for  his  wife  to  resume  a  girlhood  quarrel.  It  made 
him  mad  and  he  fought  back.  Their  wrangle  reached  the 
speedily  overcrowded  dining-room  in  little  tantalizing 
slices  as  the  swinging  door  opened  to  admit  or  emit  one 
of  the  children.  But  it  swung  shut  at  once.  It  was 
like  an  exciting  serial  with  most  of  the  installments 
omitted, 

39.  In  the  cheerful  stampede  for  the  dining-room 
Debby  had  crowded  into  a  sofa  alongside  another  re-visitor 
to  the  town,  Newton  Meldrum,  whom  she  had  known  but 
slightly.  He  had  gone  with  the  older  girls  and  had  al- 
ready left  Carthage  when  Debby  came  out — as  far  as  she 
had  ever  come  out  before  she  went  back. 

40.  Xewt  Meldrum  had  prospered,  according  to  Car- 
thage standards.  He  w-as  now  the  "  credit  man  "  for  a 
New  York  wholesale  house.  Debby  had  not  the  faintest 
idea  what  a  credit  man  was.     But  Asaph  knew  all  too 


and  tone-giving  effect ;  see  S.  S.  M.,  80 :  4-8 ;  165 :  22-23.  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  detail  through  which  the  various  contributory 
impressions  made  by  this  story  are  created,  is  integrated  into  one 
unified  whole  largely  by  the  method  of  distribution  (S.  S.  M., 
80:4-7).  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  nai-rative  especially  is  this 
true.  The  student  should  pick  out  all  the  important  instances  to 
be  found  in  the  story. 

39-40.  Introduces  the  person  of  second  imi^ortance,  and  inci- 
dentally affords  further  exemplification  of  the  uses  of  distributed 
exposition  and  detail.     See  also  S.  S,  M.,  165 :  21, 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  2G1 

well.  As  the  owner  of  the  largest  department  store  in 
Carthage,  Asaph  owed  the  New  York  house  more  money 
than  he  could  pay.  He  gave  that  as  a  reason  for  owing  it 
still  more.  The  New  York  house  sent  Meldrum  out 
to  Carthage  to  see  whether  it  would  be  more  profit- 
able to  close  Asaph  up  or  to  tide  him  over  another 
season. 

41.  Josie  had  chosen  this  anxious  moment  to  give  a 
party  to  Birdaline ! 

42.  Asaph  had  to  invite  Meldrum.  Josie  had  prom- 
ised that  she  would  show  how  much  a  wife  can  help  her 
husband ;  she  promised  to  lavish  on  Meldrum  especial  con- 
sideration and  to  introduce  him  to  some  pretty  girls — he 
was  a  notorious  bachelor. 

43.  Then  she  forgot  him  at  once  for  her  ancient  rivalry 
with  Birdaline.  And  Asaph  also  forgot  him  in  the  ex- 
citement of  quarrel. 

44.  Indeed,  host  and  hostess  ignored  their  fatal  guest 
so  completely  that  they  left  him  to  eat  his  supper  along- 
side the  least  considered  woman  in  town — poor  old 
"  Dubby  Debby."  Debby  had  long  ago  fallen  out  of  the 
practise  of  expecting  attention  from  anybody.  Tonight 
she  sat  pondering  her  own  shame  and  trying  to  extract 
some  ice-cream  from  between  the  spots  of  salt.     A  few 


41.  Character  hint  (S.  S.  M.,  257) ;  see  also  characterizing  facts 
told  in  42-43. 

44.  Establishes  the  connection  between  the  present  situation 
and  the  situation  ended  by  the  introduction  of  the  passages  of  dis- 
tributed detail  in  pars.  38-40.  The  connection  is  made  as  com- 
plete as  if  there  had  been  no  break.  Other  instances  of  skillfully 
maintained  coherence  and  resumption  of  the  main  narrative 
thread  will  be  found  in  the  story.  Find  and  study  them;  the 
method  is  useful  and  sound. 


202  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

big  tears  had  Avclled  to  her  eyelids  and  dropped  into  her 
dish.  She  blamed  herself  for  the  salt.  Then  she  heard 
her  neighbor  grnuible : 

45.  "  Say,  Debb}^,  is  your  ice-cream  all  salty  ?  " 

46.  "  Ye-es,  it  is,"  she  murmured,  fluttering. 

47.  "  So's  mine.  Funny  thing,  there's  always  salt  in 
the  ice-cream.     Ever  notice  it  ?  " 

48.  "  Tha — that's  so,  there  usually  is — a  little." 

49.  "A  lot!  That's  life,  I  guess.  Poor  old  Asaph! 
Plenty  of  salt  in  his  ice-cream,  eh?  What's  the  matter 
with  that  wife  of  his,  anyway?  Aren't  they  happy  to- 
gether ?  " 

50.  "  Oh,  I  guess  they're  as  happy  as  married  folks 
ever  are,"  Debby  answered  absently,  and  then  gasped  at 
the  horrible  philosophy  she  had  uttered. 

51.  Meldrum  threw  her  a  glance  and  laughed. 

52.  Debby  winced.  He  probably  was  saying  to  him- 
self,  "  Sour  grapes !  "     At  least  she  thought  he  Avould 


45-55.  Note  the  ease,  naturalness,  and  fitness  of  the  dialogue. 
Mr.  Hughes  is  skillful  in  this  introduction  of  passages  of  dialogue 
into  his  narratives;  almost  any  of  his  stories  and  novels  will 
afford  examples  (on  the  functions  and  management  of  dialogue, 
see  S.  S.  M.,  229-249).  The  dialogue  he  writes  is  well  adapted 
to  the  persons  and  situation,  too,  and  can  be  studied  for  hints  as 
to  management  of  speech  in  these  respects. 

49.  See  Newt's  preparatory  remark  in  47.  Then  find  other  de- 
tails indicating  that  he  is  of  a  philosophical  turn  of  mind.  Has 
his  occupation,  requiring  study  and  judgment  of  men  and  motives, 
had  anything  to  do  with  developing  this  attitude  of  mind  in 
him?  Is  the  speech  therefore  fitted  to  the  person  (S.  S.  M., 
235:  11-12)  ?  Is  it  also  fitted  to  the  present  situation — Newt  back 
among  the  acquaintances  of  his  youth,  and  naturally  making  com- 
parisons and  thinking  over  the  facts  his  observations  disclose? 

52.  A  reminder  of  Debby's  self-accepted  status  and  her  state 
qf  mind  (exposition  in  pars.  28-36). 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  263 

think  that.      But   he  proved   his   innocence   by   his  next 
words : 

53.  "  You  married,  Debby  ?  " 

54.  "  N-no,"  she  faltered,  without  daring  even  to  ven- 
ture a  "  not  yet."  He  surprised  her  shame  with  a  laugh- 
ing compliment : 

55.  "  Wise  lady  !     Is^either  am  I.     Shake  !  " 

56.  Then  she  turned  on  the  sofa  so  that  she  could  see 
him  better.  His  eyes  were  twinkling.  He  was  handsome, 
citified,  sleek,  comfortable.     Yet  he  had  never  married ! 

57.  He  was  holding  out  his  hand.  And  because  it 
commanded  hers,  she  put  hers  in  it,  and  he  squeezed  her 
long,  fishy  fin  in  a  big,  warm,  comfortable  palm.  And 
she  gave  her  timid,  smiling  eyes  into  his  big,  smiling  stare 
and  wondered  why  she  smiled.  But  she  liked  it  so  much 
that  fresh  tears  rushed  to  her  eyelids,  little  eager,  happy 
tears  that  could  not  have  had  much  salt  in  them,  for  one 
or  two  of  them  bounced  into  her  ice-cream.  Yet  it  did 
not  taste  bitter  now. 

58.  Asaph  came  in  then  and  looked  around  the  room 
with  defiant  eyes  that  dared  anybody  to  be  uncomfortable. 
He  recognized  Meldrum  with  a  start  and  realized  that  the 
most  important  guest  had  been  left  to  Deb  Larrabee  of  all 
people.  This  misstep  might  mean  ruin  to  him.  He  made 
haste  to  carry  Meldrum  away,  and  present  him  to  Pamela. 

59.  Deborah,  abandoned  on  the  sofa,  studied  Pamela 
with  wonder.     How  beautiful  the  child  was !     How  she 


57.    Character  and  mood  hints. 

58-61.  Psychological  detail  (direct  statement),  emphasizing 
part  of  the  basic  contrast  involved  by  the  theme  (introd.  n.  2). 
Observe  again  the  skill  with  which  the  narrative  drops  and  re- 
sumes its  account  of  the  things  done,  thus  managing  the  inter- 
polation and  integration  of  concentrative  detail;  see  par.  44,  n. 


2 04  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

drew  the  nicii !  How  their  eyes  fed  upon  her!  IIow  she 
queened  it  in  her  littk'  court.  Everywhere  she  went  it 
must  be  so.  In  Peoria  they  must  have  gathered  about  her 
just  as  here.  They  must  be  missing  her  in  Peoria  now. 
When  she  w^ent  back  they  would  be  glad. 

GO.  The  contrast  between  Pamela  and  herself  was  so 
cruel  that  Deborah's  heart  revolted.  She  demanded  of 
heaven :  "  Why  so  much  to  her  and  none  to  me  ?  My 
mother  was  as  good  as  her  mother,  and  better  looking  in 
her  day;  and  my  father  was  a  handsome  man.  Why  was 
I  made  at  all,  if  not  well  made  ?  Why  allowed  to  live  if 
not  fit  for  life  ?  My  elder  sister  that  died  was  more  beau- 
tiful than  Pamela,  but  she  died.  Why  couldn't  I  have 
died  in  her  place,  or  taken  the  beauty  she  laid  aside  as  I 
wore  her  cast-off  clothes  ?  Yet  I  live  and  I  shall  never 
be  married,  shall  never  be  a  mother,  shall  never  be  of  any 
use  or  any  beauty.    Why  ?    Why  ?  " 

61.  Bitter,  bitter,  w^ere  her  thoughts  as  she  sat  with  her 
plate  in  her  lap.  She  hardly  noticed  when  Josie  took  the 
plate  away.  She  could  not  bear  to  remain.  She  tiptoed 
from  the  dining-room  unheeded  and  went  out  at  the  side 
door,  drawing  her  shawl  over  her  head.  She  must  sneak 
home  alone  as  usual.  Thank  heaven  it  was  only  a  block 
and  the  streets  were  black. 

62.  As  she  reached  the  front  gate  she  met  a  man  w^ho 
had  just  come  down  the  walk.  It  was  Meldrum.  He 
peered  at  her  in  the  dim  light  of  the  street  lamp  and  called 
out: 

63.  "  That  you,  Debby  ?  Couldn't  you  stand  it  any 
longer  ?  Xeither  could  I.  That  girl  is  a  peach  to  look  at, 
but  she  can't  sing  for  sour  apples ;  and  as  for  brains — 
she's  a  nut,  a  pure  pecan !     I  guess  I'm  too  old  or  not  old 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  265 

enough  to  be  satisfied  with  staring  at  a  pretty  hide  on  a 
pretty  frame.  Which  way  you  going?  I'll  walk  along 
with  you,  if  you  don't  mind." 

64.  If  she  didn't  mind!  Would  Lazarus  object  if 
Dives  sat  on  the  floor  beside  him  and  brought  along  his 
trencher  ? 

65.  Debby  was  so  bewildered  that  the  sidewalk  reeled 
beneath  her  intoxicated  feet.  She  stumbled  till  Meldrum 
took  her  hand  into  his  arm ;  then  she  trotted  alongside,  as 
meek  as  Tobias  with  the  angel. 

66.  All,  all  too  soon  they  reached  her  house.  But  he 
paused  at  the  gate.  She  dared  not  invite  him  even  to  the 
porch.  If  her  mother  heard  a  man's  voice  there  she  would 
probably  open  the  window  upstairs  and  shriek  "  Murder ! 
Thieves !  Help  !  "  So  Debby  waited  at  the  gate  wdiile  the 
almost  invisible  Meldrum  chattered  on.  He  was  in  a 
mood  for  talk.  The  paralyzed  Debby  was  a  perfect  listener, 
and  in  that  intense  dark  she  was  as  beautiful  as  Cleopatra 
would  have  been. 

67.  To  her  he  was  solely  a  voice,  a  voice  of  strange 
cynicisms,  yet  of  strange  comfort  to  her.  He  was  laugh- 
ing at  the  people  she  held  in  awe.  "  This  town's  a  joke 
to  me,"  he  said.  "  It's-  a  side-show  full  of  freaks."  And 
he  mocked  the  great  folk  of  the  village  as  if  they  were 
yokels.  He  laughed  at  their  customs.  He  ridiculed  many, 
many  things  that  Debby  had  believed  and  suffered  from 
believing.  He  ridiculed  married  people  and  marriage 
from  the  superior  heights  of  one  who  could  have  married 


67-71.  Note  the  way  in  which  psychological  detail  (state  of 
mind)  is  presented.  When  direct  psychological  analysis  is  neces- 
sary, it  can  be  employed  without  hesitation  if  introduced  in  brief 
and  distributed  passages.    See  S.  S.  M.,  50 :  15 ;  228 :  15. 


266  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

many  and  bad  rejected  all.  It  was  strangely  pleasant 
Leaving  to  her  who  had  observed  marriage  from  tbe  bum- 
ble deptlis  of  one  wbom  all  bad  rejected. 

OS.  He  talked  till  be  beard  tbe  town  clock  wbine  eleven 
times,  tben  be  said :  *'  Good  Lord !  I  didn't  know  it  was 
so  late.  I  don't  get  tbese  moods  often.  It  takes  a  migbty 
good  listener  to  loosen  me  up.  Good-nigbt !  Don't  let 
any  of  tbese  fellows  bunco  you  into  marrying  'em.  Tbere's 
notbing  in  it,  Deblw.     Take  it  from  me.     Good-nigbt !  " 

69.  Sbe  felt  ratber  tban  saw  tbat  be  lifted  bis  bat. 
Sbe  felt  again  bis  big  band  enveloping  bers  and  sbe 
answered  its  squeeze  witb  a  desperate  little  clencb  of  ber 
own. 

TO.  He  left  ber  wonderfully  uplifted.  Now  sbe  felt 
less  an  exile  from  marriage  tban  a  rebel.  Sbe  almost  con- 
vinced berself  tbat  sbe  bad  kept  out  of  matrimony  because 
sbe  was  too  good  for  it.  Tbe  solitary  cell  of  ber  bed  was 
a  queenly  dais  wben  sbe  crept  into  it,  and  sbe  dreamed 
tbat  General  Kitcbener  asked  for  ber  band  and  sbe  re- 
fused it. 

71.  Meldrum's  cynicisms  bad  been  strangely  opportune 
to  tbe  despondent  old  maid.  He  unwittingly  belped  ber 
over  a  deep  ditcb  and  got  ber  past  a  bad  nigbt. 

72.  But  wben  sbe  woke,  tbe  next  morning  was  but  tbe 
resumption  of  tbe  same  old  day.  Poverty,  loneliness  and 
tbe  inanity  of  a  manless  bousebold  were  again  ber  por- 
tion. Tbe  face  sbe  wasbed  explained  to  her  wby  sbe  was 
not  sougbt  after  by  tbe  men. 

73.  Sbe  found  ber  raotber  filled  witb  rbeumatism  and 
bad  news.  A  letter  bad  come  tbe  day  before  and  sbe  bad 
concealed  it  from  Deborab  so  tbat  tbe  child  might  have  a 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  267 

nice  time  at  the  party,  and  did  she  have  a  nice  time  and 
who  was  there  ?  But  that  could  wait,  for  never  was  there 
such  news  as  she  had  now,  and  there  was  never  any  let-up 
in  bad  luck,  and  them  with  no  man  to  lean  on  or  turn  to. 

74.  When  Deborah  finally  pried  the  letter  from  the 
poor  old  talons  she  learned  that  the  A.  G.  and  St.  P.  Ry. 
would  pass  its  dividend  this  year. 

75.  Deborah's  father  had  said  that  his  deathbed  was 
cheered  by  the  fact  that  he  had  left  his  widow  and  his 
child  several  shares  of  that  soulful  corporation's  stock. 
He  called  it  the  "  Angel  Gabriel  and  St.  Peter  Railway." 
But  the  few  hundred  dollars  that  had  come  to  them  like 
semi-annual  manna  and  quails  would  not  drop  down  this 
year ;  perhaps  not  next  year,  or  ever  again. 

76.  In  her  dismay  Debby  had  an  impulse  to  consult 
ISTewt  Meldrum.  She  hurried  to  Shillaber's  Bazaar,  hop- 
ing he  might  be  there.  Asaph  met  her  himself  and  told 
her  that  Kewt  had  gone  back  to  New  York  an  hour  before. 
Debby  broke  down  and  told  Asaph  of  her  plight.  She  sup- 
posed that  she  would  have  to  go  to  work  at  once  some- 
where.    But  what  could  she  do  ? 

77.  Asaph  was  feeling  amiable ;  he  had  won  a  reprieve 
from  Meldrum  and  had  made  it  up  with  his  wife  in  pri- 


74.  By  this  time  we  know  a  good  deal  about  Debby,  the  friends 
she  has  (or  hasn't),  the  kind  of  people  they  are  and  the  manner 
of  existence  they  lead.  But  not  a  thing  has  happened  up  to  this 
point  to  produce  or  even  hint  at  a  change  in  the  status  quo 
(S.  S.  M.,  85  : 1-4;  5-9  may  also  be  included;  92 : 1-7).  The  incit- 
ing impulse  comes  in  this  long-postponed  paragraph. 

77-97.  In  these  paragraphs  are  found  the  descriptive  passages 
that  are,  in  effect,  important  developing  incidents  of  the  plot 
(S.  S.  M.,  108 :  32-36) ;  the  action  is  not  narrated  so  much  as  it  is 


268  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

vate  for  the  i)ublic  quarrel.  His  heart  melted  at  the 
thought  of  helping  poor  old  Dubby  Debby,  whom  every- 
body was  fond  of  in  a  hatefully  unflattering  way.  He 
had  helped  other  gentlewomen  in  distress,  and  now  he 
dumfounded  Debby  by  saying: 

78.  "  Why  don't  you  clerk  here,  Debby  ?  " 

79.  "  Why,  I  couldn't  clerk  in  a  store !  "  she  gasped, 
terrified.     "  I  don't  know  the  least  thing  about  it." 

80.  "  You'd  soon  learn  the  stock,  and  the  prices  are  all 
marked  in  plain  letters  that  you  can  memorize  easy. 
You've  got  a  lot  of  friends  and  we  give  a  commission  on 
all  the  sales  over  a  certain  amount.     Better  try  it." 

81.  Debby  felt  now,  for  the  first  time,  all  the  sweet 
panic  that  most  women  undergo  with  their  first  proposal. 
This  offer  of  the  job  of  saleswoman  was  as  near  as  Debby 


made  clear  to  us  by  recounting  its  effects  ("cause  indicated  by 
effect ").  Note  that  in  our  plot  we  have  a  "  conflict  "  that  we  can 
describe  (adopting  a  slang  analogy)  as  "reverse  conflict";  i.e., 
the  inhibiting  opposition  of  circumstances  is  removed  and  Debby 
develops  under  favoring  conditions.  The  part  of  her  struggle  that 
had  tragic  elements  is  in  her  past,  and  the  only  uncei'tainty  is  that 
doubt  which  naturally  suggests  itself,  whether  such  a  transforma- 
ton  against  the  nullifying  influence  of  a  lifetime  of  repression 
and  disappointment,  is  possible.  This  development  could  be 
treated  in  a  way  to  make  the  conflict  that  actually  exists,  the 
opposition  of  these  contrary  influences,  seem  highly  doubtful  of 
outcome.  But  although  Debby  undoubtedly  still  had  times  of 
trial  and  failure,  this  particular  story  does  not  call  for,  nor  would 
it  benefit  from,  the  detailed  and  dramatic  development  of  these 
incidents  of  struggle,  or  effort-against-opposition ;  hence  em- 
phasis is  not  put  on  the  struggle,  but  on  the  consequences  follow- 
ing the  struggle  (akin  to  consequential  exposition;  S.  S.  M., 
171:4).  For  the  simple  reason  that  unhampered  progress  of 
events  continuously  in  the  same  direction,  consequent  upon  the 
removal  of  all  inhibitions,  is  lacking  in  suspense,  we  seldom  find 
a  plot  so  organized  as  to  involve  this.    Yet  (as  this  story  proves) 


The  Last  Kose  of  Summer  269 

had  come  to  being  offered  the  job  of  helpmeet.  She  even 
murmured,  "  This  is  so  sudden,"  and  "  I'll  have  to  ask 
mamma."  When  Mrs.  Larrabee  heard  the  news  she 
apologized  to  heaven  for  doubting  its  watchfulness,  com- 
mended Asaph  Shillaber  to  its  attention,  and  bespoke  for 
him  a  special  invoice  of  blessings. 

82.  And  now  the  long  drought  in  Debby's  good  luck 
seemed  to  be  ending.  The  skies  over  her  gi-ew  dark  with 
the  abundance  of  merciful  rain.  A  gentle  drizzle  seemed 
to  her  parched  soul  to  be  a  cloudburst,  a  deluge  after  a 
drought. 

83.  A  few  days  later  found  Debby  installed  in  the 


such   organization   is   legitimate   and,   under   proper   conditions, 
effective. 

We  should  point  out,  however,  that  quite  a  different  theory 
may  apply  to  the  present  plot — that  the  period  of  struggle  in 
Debby's  career  is  already  past,  and  needs  to  be  shown  to  us 
only  in  motivating  exposition  (see  especially  pars.  28-36)  ;  that 
par.  74  introduces,  not  the  inciting  moment,  but  the  decisive 
momient;  and  that  what  we  have  described  above  as  development 
(rising  action)  is  in  truth  an  unusually  long  and  significant  fall- 
ing action,  through  which  the  outcome  is  gradually  revealed  in 
full,  and  at  the  end  of  which  comes  a  final  incident  of  the  out- 
come, Debby's  engagement  (from  this  point  of  view)  not  con- 
stituting the  conclusive  outcome,  but  merely  its  concluding 
episode.  Such  an  organization  of  the  plot  would  be  even  more 
rare  than  the  alternative  form  previously  commented  on;  but 
it  is  quite  as  legitimate,  too,  since  the  conte  exists  to  create 
a  certain  unified  impression  and  any  management  of  materials 
that  accomplishes  this  justifies  itself  (S.  S.M.,  19:1-3;  158: 
11-12).  The  present  editor  almost  inclines  to  the  view  that  Mr. 
Hughes  has  in  fact  taken  up  Debby's  history  at  its  decisive  mo- 
ment, and  built  his  story,  with  its  unified  impression,  around  the 
events  of  what  would  be  (in  a  conventionally  organized  story) 
the  falling  action  and  outcome.  If  he  has  not  done  this,  he  has 
at  least  revealed  the  possibility  of  such  an  adaptation  of  the 
technique  of  plot  organization. 


270  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

washable  silks.  The  change  in  her  environment  was  com- 
plete. Instead  of  dozing  through  a  nightmare  of  inepti- 
tude in  the  doleful  society  of  her  old  mother  in  a  dismal 
home  where  almost  nobody  ever  called,  and  never  a  man; 
now  she  stood  all  day  on  the  edge  of  a  stream  of  people ; 
she  gossiped  breezily  all  day  with  women  in  search  of 
beautiful  fabrics.  She  handled  beautiful  fabrics.  Her 
conversation  was  a  procession  of  adjectives  of  praise. 

84.  Trying  to  live  up  to  her  surroundings,  she  took 
thought  of  her  appearance.  Dealing  in  fashions,  with 
fashion  plates  as  her  scriptures,  she  tried  to  get  in  touch 
with  the  contemporary  styles.  She  bounded  across  eight 
or  ten  periods  at  one  leap.  First,  she  found  that  she  could 
at  least  put  up  her  hair  as  other  women  did.  The  revolu- 
tion in  her  appearance  was  amazing.  Xext  she  retrimmed 
her  old  hat,  and  reshaped  her  old  skirt,  drew  it  so  tightly 
about  her  ankles  that  she  was  forced  to  the  tremendous 
deed  of  slitting  it  up  a  few  inches  so  that  she  could  at 
least  walk  slowly.  The  first  time  her  mother  noticed  it 
she  said : 

85.  "  Why,  Debby,  what  on  earth ! — that  skirt  of 
yours  is  all  tore  up  the  side." 

86.  Debby  explained  it  to  her  with  the  delicious  con- 
fusion of  a  Magdalen  confessing  her  entry  upon  a  career 
of  profligacy.  Her  mother  almost  fainted.  Debby  had 
gone  wrong  at  this  late  day!  Mrs.  Larrabee  had  heard 
that  department  stores  were  awful  places  for  a  girl.  The 
papers  had  been  full  of  minimum  wages  and  things. 

87.  Stranger  yet — Debby  began  to  attitudinize,  to 
learn  the  comfort  of  poses.  She  must  be  forever  holding 
pretty  things  forward.  She  took  care  of  her  hands,  pol- 
ished her  nails.     I^ow  and  then  she  must  drape  a  piece 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  271 

of  silk  across  her  shoulder  and  dispose  her  rigid  frame  into 
curves.  She  began  to  talk  of  "  lines  " — to  cold  cream  her 
complexion. 

88.  The  mental  change  in  her  was  no  less  thorough. 
Activity  was  a  tonic.  Her  patience  was  compelled  to 
school  itself.  Prosperity  lay  in  unfaltering  courtesy,  un- 
tarnished cheer.  Cynicism  did  not  sell  goods.  All  day 
long  she  was  praising  things.  Enthusiasm  became  her 
instinct. 

89.  Few  men  swam  into  her  ken,  but  in  learning  to 
satisfy  the  exactions  of  women,  she  attained  the  more  dif- 
ficult tact.  She  had  long  since  omitted  malekind  from 
her  life  and  her  plan  of  life.  She  was  content.  Women 
liked  her,  women  lingered  to  talk  with  her ;  they  asked  her 
help  in  their  vital  struggle  for  beauty.     It  was  enough. 

90.  One  morning  as  she  was  making  ready  to  go  to 
the  store,  and  taking  much  time  at  the  process,  she  ob- 
served at  her  forehead  a  white  hair.  It  startled  her; 
frightened  her  for  a  moment ;  then  she  laughed. 

91.  "  Why,  I'm  growing  old  !  " 

92.  What  use  had  she  for  youth  ?  It  had  never  been 
kind  to  her.  All  the  loss  of  it  meant  was  that  it  might 
harm  her  a  little  at  the  store.  She  plucked  out  the  white 
thread  and  forgot  about  it — nearly. 

93.  Another  day  there  was  another  white  hair.  She 
removed  that,  too.  Then  came  another,  and  others,  swiftly, 
till  she  was  afraid  to  take  any  more  away. 

94.  At  last  there  was  a  whole  gray  lock.     She  tucked 

90-98.  Retarded  movement.  The  time  chosen  marks  the  end  of 
a  significant  period  in  her  development,  and  the  retardation  thus 
emphasizes  the  passage  of  time. — Note  another  instance  of  con- 
trast in  the  portrayal  of  Debby  as  she  now  is,  opposed  to  what 
she  once  was  (pars.  28-36). 


272  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

it  ill  and  pinned  it  beneath  the  nondescript  mass  of  her 
coiffure.  It  would  have  terrified  her  more  if  she  had  not 
been  so  busy.  Fatigue  was  her  one  distress  now,  but  it 
strengthened  her,  sweetened  her  sleep,  kept  dreams  away. 
The  old  stupidity  of  her  life  had  given  way  to  an  eternal 
hurry. 

95.  And  now  the  white  hairs  were  hurrying,  too,  like 
the  snowflakes  that  suddenly  fill  the  air.  But  with  this 
snow  came  the  quickening  of  pulse  and  glistening  of  eyes, 
the  reddening  of  cheeks  that  the  snow  brings. 

96.  The  white  fell  about  her  hair  as  if  she  stood  bare- 
headed in  a  snowstorm.  There  was  a  kind  of  benediction 
in  it.  It  softened  something  about  her  face,  as  the  snow 
softens  old  rubbish  heaps  and  dreary  yards  and  bleak 
patches. 

97.  People  began  to  say,  "  How  well  you  look, 
Debby !  "  They  began  to  dignify  her  as  "  Deborah  "  or 
"  Miss  Larrabee."  Her  old  contemners  came  to  her 
counter  with  a  new  meekness.  Age  was  making  it  harder 
and  harder  for  them  to  keep  to  the  pace.  Bright  colors 
did  not  become  them  any  longer.  Their  petals  were  fall- 
ing from  them ;  the  velvet  was  losing  its  nap,  rustling,  sag- 
ging, wearing  through.  The  years,  like  moths,  were 
gnawing,  gnawing. 

98.  One  day  a  sad,  heavy  figure  dragged  along  Deb- 
orah's aisle  and  sank  upon  the  mushroom  stool  in  front  of 
her.  Deborah  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  Josie  Shil- 
laber.  She  could  hardly  force  back  the  shock  that  leaped 
to  her  expression.  From  the  thin  white  lips,  crumpled 
with  pain,  came  a  voice  like  a  rustling  of  dead  leaves  in  a 

98-109.    Concentrative     material — incident,     mood,     character. 
Note  the  character  hints  (Debby)  in  pars.  100,  104,  and  105. 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  273 

November  gust.     And  the  voice  said  with  a  kind  of  envy 
in  it: 

99.  "  Why,  Deborah,  how  well  you  look !  " 

100.  "  Oh,  I  am  well !  "  Deborah  chanted,  then  re- 
pressed her  cheer  unconsciously.  It  was  not  tactful  to  be 
too  well.  "  That  is,  I'm  tol'able.  And  how  are  you  this 
awful  weather  ?  " 

101.  "  Not  well,  Debby.  I'm  not  a  bit  well;  no,  I'm 
never  well  any  more.  Why,  your  hair  is  getting  quite 
white,  isn't  it,  dear  ?  But  it's  real  becoming  to  you. 
Mine  is  all  gray,  too,  you  see,  but  it's  awful !  " 

102.  "  Indeed  it's  not.  It's  fine !  Your  children  must 
love  it,  don't  they  ?  " 

103.  "  Oh,  the  children  !  "  Josie  wailed.  "  What  do 
they  think  of  me  ?  It's  awful,  getting  old,  isn't  it,  Debby  ? 
It  don't  seem  to  worry  you,  though.  I  suppose  it's  be- 
cause you  haven't  had  sorrow  in  your  life  as  I  have.  I'm 
looking  for  something  to  wear,  Debby.  The  styles  aren't 
what  they  used  to  be.  What  are  people  coming  to?  I 
can't  find  a  thing  to  wear.  W^hat  would  you  suggest  ?  Do 
help  me !  " 

104.  Deborah  emptied  the  shelves  upon  the  counter, 
sent  to  the  stock-room  for  new  shipments  that  had  not  been 
listed  yet,  ransacked  the  place;  but  there  was  nothing 
there  for  the  woman  whose  husband  owned  it  all. 

105.  Deborah's  hand  went  to  her  heart,  where  there 
was  an  ache  of  pity  for  one  w^ho  had  never  pitied  her.  It 
was  Deborah  now  that  was  almost  girlish  in  form ;  she 
was  only  now  filling  out,  taking  flesh  upon  her  bones  and 
grace  into  her  members. 

106.  A  few  weeks  later  Deborah  went  again  to  the  Shil- 
laber  home,  sat  again  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room.    The 


274  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

children  bad  all  come  home.     Josie  was  in  the  parlor,  al 
most  hidden  in  flowers.     She  did  not  rise  to  receive  her 
guests.     They  all  filed  by  and  looked  at  her  and  shook 
their  beads.     She  did  not  answer,  even  with  a  nod. 

107.  Birdaline  wept  over  her,  looking  older  and  terri- 
fied, but  pretty. 

108.  Mr.  Crankshaw,  the  undertaker,  w^as  there  offi- 
cially, and  so  were  bis  camp-stools.  One  of  them  had  col- 
lapsed, and  the  bass  of  the  choir  had  been  unable  to  open 
his.  Some  of  the  young  people  giggled  as  always  at  a 
funeral.  But  even  for  them  the  laughter  was  but  the  auto- 
matic whir  of  a  released  spring,  and  there  was  no  mirth 
in  the  air. 

109.  Time  had  sung  away  the  rose  that  had  been  Josie. 
Deborah  had  heard  the  rose  cry  out  in  its  agony  of  dis- 
solution, and  now  it  was  fallen  from  the  bush,  scentless 
and  dead. 

110.  The  store  was  closed  for  the  day  and  Deborah 
went  home,  thanking  God  that  He  had  not  put  upon  her 
body  the  mortgage  of  beauty,  whose  foreclosure  was  such 
ruin. 

111.  The  next  morning  the  Bazaar  was  open  at  the 
regular  hour.  Shoppers  came  as  numerously  as  before. 
People  were  as  eager  as  ever  to  enhance  their  charms  or 
disguise  their  flaws.  In  a  few  days  Asaph  Shillaber  was 
back  in  his  office,  with  mourning  in  his  manner  and  his 
garb.     A  month  later  his  cravat  was  no  longer  black. 


111-112.  Coneentrative  and  eharaeter-hinting  matter — the  mid- 
summer rose  Josie  forgotten  and  her  life  as  if  it  had  not  been 
and  Asaph,  left  free,  "  perking  up  "  and  gathering  more  youthful 
blossoms  about  him.  All  this  of  course  motivates  itself  directly 
upon  human  nature. 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  275 

112.  In  a  few  months  younger  girls  were  behind  many 
of  the  counters.  Deborah  felt  that  youth  was  invading 
and  replacing.  She  wondered  how  soon  her  turn  would 
come.  It  would  be  a  sad  day,  for  she  loved  the 
work. 

113.  But  she  took  some  reassurance  from  the  praises 
of  Asaph.  He  paused  now  and  then  to  compliment  her 
on  a  sale  or  her  progress.  He  led  up  to  her  some  of  his 
most  particular  customers  and  introduced  her  with  a 
flourish.  Sometimes  he  paused  as  he  went  down  the  aisle 
and  turned  back  to  stare  at  her.  She  knew  that  she  had 
blushed  because  her  face  was  hot,  and  once  a  woman  who 
was  trying  to  match  a  sample  whispered  to  her: 

114.  "  Say,  Deborah,  what  kind  of  rouge  do  you  use? 
It  gives  you  the  nicest  color — and  it  looks  like  real!  " 

115.  When  Deborah  denied  that  she  painted  the  woman 
was  angry.  She  thought  Deborah  was  trying  to  copyright 
her  complexion. 

116.  When  the  shopper  had  moved  off  Asaph  hung 
about  awkwardly.  Finally  he  put  the  backs  of  his 
knuckles  on  the  counter  and  leaned  across  to  murmur : 

117.  "  Say,  Debby,  I  was  telling  Jim  Crawford  yes- 
terday that  you  made  more  sales  than  any  clerk  in  the 
shop  this  last  month." 

118.  "Oh,  really,  did  I?"  Deborah  gasped,  her  eyes 
snapping  like  electric  sparks.  They  seeemd  to  jolt  Asaph ; 
he  fell  back  a  little  and  walked  away  staring  over  his 
shoulder. 


113-118.  These  paragraphs  are  similar  to  those  mentioned  at 
the  first  of  the  note  on  77-97,  reminding  us  with  further  emphasis 
of  the  transformation  in  Debby }  another  instance  of  effective  dis- 
tribution of  detail. 


276  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

119.  That  night  as  Deborah  was  washing  the  dishes 
after  supper  the  doorbell  burred. 

120.  ''  You  go,  mother,  will  you  ?  My  hands  are  all 
suds." 

121.  Mrs.  Larrabee  hobbled  slowly  into  the  hall,  but 
came  back  with  a  burst  of  unsuspected  speed.  She  was 
pale  with  fright. 

122.  "  It's  a  man!  "  she  whispered. 

123.  "A  man!     Who  could  it  be ?"  Debby  gasped. 

124.  "  One  of  those  daylight  burglars,  prob'ly.  What'll 
we  do?" 

125.  But  Debby,  in  the  new  executive  habit  of  her 
mind,  grew  bold  enough  to  take  at  least  a  peek  at  the 
stranger.  She  tiptoed  into  the  parlor  and  lifted  the  shade 
slightly  aside.     She  speedily  recognized  a  familiar  suit. 


119-131.  Narration  of  di-amatic,  or  direct  actional  incident,  is 
now  taking  to  some  extent  the  place  of  the  looser,  less  dx'amaticised 
narration  which  has  been  employed  in  presenting  the  preliminary 
facts,  though  even  yet  the  running-narrative  form  still  dominates. 
Introduction  of  action-developing  incident  here  can  be  explained 
thus :  Debby's  period  of  blossoming  is  approaching  its  climactic 
height ;  the  gi'adual  change  in  her  and  in  her  relations  to  existence 
has  made  her  the  central  person  in  a  group  of  actors,  whose 
acts  and  activities  are  at  last  positively  and  primarily  directed 
toward  her  and  take  form  in  definite,  individual  incidents  of 
dramatic  type.  Assuming  that  the  story  is  built  on  the  rising- 
action  and  not  on  the  falling-action  stage  of  the  plot  (see  note 
on  pars.  77-97),  these  incidents  are  developing-incidents  of  the 
regulation  sort;  that  is,  organized  groups  of  acts  and  happen- 
ings made  to  cari-y  the  action  forward  toward  the  decisive  mo- 
ment and  climacteric  height.  Nevertheless,  the  fact  that  the  pre- 
vailing narrative  method  in  the  present  story  tends  toward  that 
of  the  running  chronicle  with  occasional  employment  of  the 
dramatic  incident  as  a  means  of  concentrating  and  emphasizing 
the  action,  directs  attention  to  the  utility  of  this  method  in  dealing 
with  certain  kinds  of  short-story  material.    A  study  of  S.  S.  M.j 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  277 

126.  "  It's  old  Jim  Crawford,"  she  said. 

127.  There  was  a  panic  of  another  sort  now,  getting 
Debby's  hands  dry,  her  sleeves  down,  her  apron  off,  her 
hair  puffed,  the  lamp  in  the  parlor  lighted.  Old  Jim 
Crawford  was  some  minutes  older  before  he  was  admitted. 

128.  It  was  the  first  male  caller  Deborah  had  had  since 
her  mother  could  remember.  The  old  lady  received  him 
with  a  flourish  that  would  have  befitted  a  king.  That  he 
was  a  widower  and,  for  Carthage,  wealthy,  may  have  had 
something  to  do  with  it.  A  fantastic  hope  that  at  last 
somebody  had  come  to  propose  to  Deborah  excited  her 
mother  so  that  she  took  herself  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as 
the  weather  had  been  decently  discussed. 

129.  Mr.  Crawford  made  a  long  and  ponderous  effort 
at  small  talk  and  came  round  to  his  errand  with  the 
subtlety  of  an  ocean  liner  warping  into  its  slip.  At  length 
he  mumbled  that  if  Miss  Debby  ever  got  tired  of  Shil- 
laber's  there  was  a  chance  he  might  make  a  place  for  her 
in  his  own  store. 

130.  It  was  such  a  luxury  to  Deborah  to  be  sought  after 
even  wath  this  hippopotamine  stealth  that  she  rather  pro- 


95:9  (-14);  98:15-22,  in  which  the  management  of  the  indi- 
vidual incident  as  a  means  to  bringing  on  the  plot-outcome  is 
discussed,  will  show  two  things :  First,  that  the  organization  of 
the  materials  into  distinct  individual  yet  interlocking  incidents 
must  be  the  usual  dependence  of  the  writer  of  narrative-drama 
(contes),  but  second,  that  this  method  is  subject  to  whatever 
degree  of  modification  that  the  author's  conception  of  his  story, 
his  materials,  the  effect  he  aims  to  produce,  and  his  ability,  may 
combine  to  bring  about.  Mr.  Hughes's  story  therefore  affords  an 
opportunity  for  studying  not  only  the  essential  nature  of  self- 
inclusive  plot-developing  incident,  but  also  the  skillful  modifica- 
tion and  adaptation  of  general  narrative  method  according  to 
the  requirements  of  the  story  and  its  intended  impression. 


278  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

longed  the  suspense  and  teased  Crawford  to  an  offer,  and 
to  an  increase  in  that,  before  she  told  him  that  she  would 
have  to  "  think  it  over." 

131.  He  lingered  on  the  porch  steps  to  offer  Deborah 
"  anything  within  reason/'  but  she  still  told  him  she  would 
think  it  over.  When  she  thought  it  over  she  felt  it  would 
be  base  ingratitude  to  desert  Asaph  Shillaber,  who  had 
saved  her  from  starvation  by  taking  her  into  his  beautiful 
shop.  !Mo  bribe  should  decoy  her  thence  so  long  as  he 
wanted  her. 

132.  A  few  evenings  later  there  was  another  ring  at 
the  Larrabee  bell.  This  time  Mrs.  Larrabee  showed  no 
alarm  except  that  she  might  be  late  to  the  door.  It  was 
Asaph !  He  was  as  sheepish  as  a  boy.  He  said  that  it 
was  kind  of  lonesome  over  at  his  house  and  seeing  their 
light  he  kind  of  thought  he'd  drop  round  and  be  a  little 
neighborly.   Everybody  was  growing  neighborly  nowadays. 

133.  Once  more  Mrs.  Larrabee  vanished.  As  she  sat 
in  the  dining-room  pretending  to  knit  she  thought  how 
good  it  was  to  have  a  man  in  the  house.  The  rumble  of 
a  deep  voice  was  so  comfortable  that  she  fell  asleep  long 
before  Asaph  could  bring  himself  to  go  home. 

134.  He  had  previously  sought  diversion  in  the  society 
of  some  of  the  very  young  and  very  pretty  salesgirls  in 
his  store,  but  he  found  that,  for  all  their  graces,  their 
prattle  bored  him.  They  talked  all  about  themselves  or 
their  friends.    But  Debby  talked  to  Asaph  about  Asaph. 

135.  That  long-silent  door-bell  became  a  thing  to  listen 
for  of  evenings.     Jim  Crawford  dropped  round  now  and 


135-136.  Illustrates  the  employment  of  hastened  (as  contrasted 
with  retarded)  movement  as  a  means  of  conveying'  the  lapse  of 
time  (cf.  n.  90-98).    The  effect  is  created  by  the  enumeration  of 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  270 

then.  Three  times  that  year  JSTewt  Meldrum  was  in  town 
and  called  on  Deborah.  She  asked  him  to  supper  once 
and  he  simply  raved  over  the  salt-rising  biscuits  and  the 
peach  pusserves.  After  supper  he  asked  if  he  might 
smoke.  That  was  the  last  word  in  masculine  possession. 
If  frankincense  and  myrrh  had  been  shaken  about  the 
room,  Debby  and  Mrs.  Larrabee  could  not  have  cherished 
them  as  they  did  the  odor  of  tobacco  in  the  curtains  next 
day.  Mrs.  Larrabee  cried  a  little.  Her  husband  had 
smoked. 

136.  Deborah  was  only  now  passing  through  the  stages 
the  average  woman  travels  in  her  teens  and  early  twenties. 
Deborah  was  having  callers.  Sometimes  Asaph  and  Jim 
Crawford  came  the  same  night  and  tried  to  freeze  each 
other  out.  Deborah  knew  the  superlative  female  rapture 
of  being  quarreled  over  by  two  males.  And  finally  she 
had  a  proposal — from  Asaph ;  from  Josie's  and  Birda- 
line's  Asaph !  They  had  left  him  alone  with  Debby  once 
too  often. 

137.  It  was  not  a  romantic  wooing,  and  Asaph  was  not 
offering  the  first  love  of  a  bachelor  heart.  He  was  a  trade- 
broken  widower  with  a  series  of  assorted  orphans  on  his 
hands.  And  his  declaration  was  dragged  out  of  him  by 
jealousy  and  fear. 


leading  facts  or  customary  happenings  only,  in  any  way  that  indi- 
cates the  consummg  of  time. 

136-148.  According  to  which  theory  of  the  plot-management 
(n.  77-97)  we  prefer,  this  passage  represents  the  second  main 
stage  of  the  rising  action  or  the  second  item  of  the  outcome  as 
included  in  the  falling  action  (the  first  item  being  her  develop- 
ment into  desirability).  We  may  regard  this  stage  as  continuing 
through  pars.  149-154. 


280  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

138.  Jim  Crawford,  after  numerous  failures  to  decoy 
Deborah,  had  at  last  offered  her  the  position  of  head  sales- 
woman ;  this  included  not  only  authority  and  increase  of 
pay,  but  two  trips  a  year  to  New  York  as  buyer! 

139.  Deborah's  soul  hungered  for  that  journey  to  Car- 
cassonne before  she  died,  but  she  put  the  temptation  from 
her  as  an  ingratitude  to  Asaph.  Still,  when  Asaph  called 
the  next  evening,  it  amused  her  to  tell  him  that  she  was 
going  to  transfer  herself  to  Crawford's — just  to  see  what 
he  would  say  and  to  amuse  him.  Her  trifling  joke  brought 
a  drama  dovra  on  her  head.     Asaph  turned  pale,  gulped : 

140.  "  You're  going  to  leave  me,  Deborah !  "Why,  I — 
I  couldn't  get  along  without  you.  Jim  Crawford's  in 
love  with  you,  the  old  scoundrel.  But  I  got  a  nicer  house 
than  what  he  has  for  you  to  live  in,  too.  There's  the  chil- 
dern,  of  course;  but  you  like  childern.  They'd  love  you. 
They  need  mothering  something  awful.  I  been  meaning 
to  ask  you  to  marry  me,  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  wait 
about  thirty  days  more.  But  I  couldn't  let  you  go.  You 
won't,  will  you  ?  I  want  you  should  marry  me.  You  wall, 
won't  you  ?  " 

141.  Deborah  stared  at  him  agape.  She  had  often 
wondered  what  she  would  say  if  the  impossible  should 
happen  and  a  man  should  ask  for  her  hand.  And  now  it 
had  come  in  the  unlikeliest  way,  and  what  she  said  was: 

142.  "  Sakes  alive,  Ase,  one  of  us  must  be  crazy !  " 

143.  But  he  w-as  in  a  panic,  and  he  besieged  and  be- 
sought till  she  told  him  she  would  "  think  it  over."  The 
sensation  was  too  delicious  to  be  finished  with  an  immedi- 
ate monosyllable.  He  w^ent  away  blustering.  Her  mother 
had  slept  through  the  cataclysm.  Deborah  postponed  tell- 
in<r  her  and  went  to  her  room  in  a  state  of  ecstatic  distress. 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  281 

144.  Deborah  was  experiencing  the  rapturous  terror 
that  assails  young  brides,  the  dread  of  the  profoundest 
revolution  in  a  woman's  life.  Only  in  her  case  the  terror 
was  the  greater  from  the  double  duration  of  her  maiden- 
hood. She  was  still  a  girl  and  yet  gray  was  in  her 
hair. 

145.  The  thought  of  marriage  was  almost  intolerably 
fearful,  and  yet  it  was  almost  intolerably  beautiful. 

146.  How  wonderful  that  she  should  be  asked  to  marry 
the  ideal  of  her  youth.  She  could  have  a  husband,  a  home, 
and  children  of  various  ages,  from  the  little  tot  to  the 
grown-ups.  She  had  given  up  hope  of  having  babies  of 
her  own,  but  she  could  acquire  these  ready-made.  All  her 
stifled  domestic  instincts  flamed  at  the  new  empire  offered 
her. 

147.  And  then  she  remembered  Josie  and  Josie's 
sneer :  "  Poor  old  Debby.     She  never  was  a  rose." 

148.  And  now  Josie  was  dead  a  year  and  more,  and 
Josie's  children  and  Josie's  lover  were  submitted  to  her 
to  take  or  to  leave.  What  a  revenge  it  w^ould  be ;  what  a 
squaring  of  old  accounts!  How  she  would  turn  the  laugh 
back  on  them !  How  well  she  could  laugh  who  waited  to 
the  last ! 

149.  Then  she  shook  her  head.  What  had  she  to  do 
with  revenge  ?  We  can  all  deal  sharply  with  our  friends, 
but  we  must  be  magnanimous  with  our  foes. 

150.  Deborah  waited  to  announce  her  decision  till 
Asaph  should  call  again.  Then  she  told  him  what  she  had 
decided,  but  not  why.  He  suspected  every  other  reason 
except  the  truth.  He  was  always  a  quick,  hard  fighter, 
and  now  Deborah  had  to  endure  what  Josie  had  endured 
all  her  life.     He  denounced  her,  threatened  her,  cajoled 


2S2  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

her,  pleaded  witli  her;  but  Josic's  ghost  chaperoned  the 
two,  forbade  the  banns. 

151.  The  next  day  in  the  store  Asaph  looked  wretched. 
Deborah  gi-ew  the  more  desirable  for  her  denial.  He  had 
thought  that  he  had  but  to  ask  her;  and  now  she  had  re- 
fused his  beseeching.  lie  paused  before  her  counter  and 
begged  her  to  reconsider. 

152.  He  called  at  her  home  every  evening.  He  went 
to  her  mother  and  implored  her  aid.  The  poor  old  soul 
could  hardly  believe  her  ears  when  she  heard  that  Deborah 
was  not  only  desired,  but  difficult.  She  promised  Asaph 
that  Deborah  should  yield,  and  he  ^vent  away  happy. 

153.  There  was  a  weird  conflict  in  the  forsaken  house 
that  night.  The  old  pictures  nearly  fell  off  the  walls  at 
the  sight  of  the  stupefied  mother  trying  to  compel  that 
lifelong  virgin  to  the  altar.  Mrs.  Larrabee  pointed  out 
that  there  would  never  be  another  chance.  The  A.  G.  and 
St.  P.  Ry.  was  in  the  receiver's  hands.  They  would  starve 
if  Deborah  lost  her  job. 

15-1.  Deborah's  only  answ^er  w^as  that  she  would  go  to 
Crawford's.  Her  mother  could  not  shake  her  decision  and 
hobbled  off  to  bed  in  senile  dismay.  She  had  always  been 
asking  what  the  world  was  coming  to,  and  now  it  was 
there. 

155.    Deborah's   heart  was  a  whirlpool  of  indecision. 


155.  The  second  stage  (see  preceding  note)  has  now  developed 
until  it  creates  a  spiritual  crisis  for  Debby,  The  various  character- 
hints  concerning  her  self-obUterating  and  sympathetic  nature, 
such  as  we  have  ah-eady  noted  (n.  98-109)  now  disclose  their 
additional  function  as  plot-motivators;  for  we  are  at  the  critical 
height  of  Debby's  history,  in  the  period  of  resistant  (or  if  we 
prefer,  of  anticipatory)  delay;  see  S.  S.  M.,  154:7  (with  note); 
74,  footnote.     Her  crisis  is  created  by  her  cbai'aeter. 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  283 

Asaph's  gloom  appalled  her;  his  evident  need  of  her  was 
his  one  unanswerable  argument.  He  had  given  her  her 
start  in  life ;  how  could  she  desert  his  store ;  how  could 
she  refuse  him  his  prayer  ?  But  how  could  she  take 
Josie's  place,  kidnap  Josie's  children  ?  Why  was  such  a 
puzzle  forced  upon  her,  where  every  decision  was  cruel  to 
some  one,  treacherous  to  something? 

156.  The  turmoil  made  such  a  din  in  her  soul  that  she 
could  hardly  transact  the  business  at  her  counter.  As  she 
stood  one  morning  asking  a  startled  shopper  if  a  bolt  of 
maroon  taffeta  matched  a  clipping  of  magenta  satin,  she 
saw  ISTewton  Meldrum  enter  the  store.  As  he  went  by  to 
the  office  he  saw  her,  lifted  his  hat,  held  it  in  air  while 
he  gazed,  then  went  on. 

157.  It  occurred  to  Deborah  that  he  could  help  her. 
She  could  lay  the  case  before  him  and  he  would  give  her 
an  impartial  decision.  She  waited  for  him  and  when  he 
left  the  office  she  beckoned  to  him  and  asked  him  shyly  if 
he  would  take  supper  with  her  and  her  mother. 

158.  "  You  bet  I  will,"  he  said,  and  stared  at  her  so 
curiously  that  she  flashed  red. 


157.  See  notes  136-148,  77-97.  We  now  have  either  the  decisive 
moment  in  Debby's  history,  or  the  preparation  for  the  third 
and  eonchiding  episode  of  the  outcome.  If  we  regard  it  as  the 
decisive  moment,  the  incident  that  it  precipitates  may  be  called 
the  conclusive  outcome :  Debby  achieves  the  ultimate  of  her 
dreams.  (Without  abandoning  this  theory  of  the  present  plot,  we 
can  also  say  that  Debby's  engagement  is  the  climactic  episode  of 
the  plot-outcome,  the  latter  being  regarded,  as  under  the  other 
theory,  as  her  blossoming-forth  taken  in  its  entirety,  i.e.,  all  the 
story  forward  from  par.  75  or  82).  (The  student  must  not  be 
deceived  by  the  placid  manner  of  the  narrative  into  thinking 
there  is  no  intensity  of  experience,  emotion,  or  passion  in  its 
events  and  situations :  "  Still  waters  run  deep."     Looking  back, 


28-i  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

159.  Tlirougli  the  supper,  too,  lie  stared  at  her  so  hard 
that  she  buttered  her  thumb  instead  of  her  salt-rising  bis- 
cuit. Afterward  she  led  him  to  the  parlor  and  closed  the 
door  on  her  mother.  This  was  in  itself  an  epoch-making 
deed.    Then  she  said  to  Newt : 

160c  "  Better  light  the  longest  cigar  you  have,  for  I 
have  a  long  story  to  tell  you.     Got  a  match  ?  " 

101.  He  had,  but  he  said  he  hadn't.  She  fetched  one 
and  was  so  confused  that  she  lighted  it  for  him.  Her  hand 
trembled  so  that  he  had  to  steady  it  with  his  own  big 
fingers,  and  he  stared  at  her  instead  of  at  the  match,  whose 
flickering  rays  lighted  her  face  eerily. 

162.  When  she  had  him  settled  in  a  chair — the  best 
patent-rocker — she  told  him  her  story.  There  is  no  surer 
test  of  character  than  the  problem  a  soul  extracts  from  a 
diSiculty.  As  Meldrum  watched  this  simple  starved  soul 
stating  its  bewilderment,  he  saw  that  her  one  concern  was 
wdiat  she  should  do  to  be  truest  to  other  souls.  There  was 
no  question  of  her  own  advantage. 

163.  He  studied  her  earnestly,  and  his  eyes  were  veiled 
with  a  kind  of  smoke  of  their  own  behind  the  scarf  of 
tobacco  fumes.  When  she  had  finished  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  his  in  meek  appeal  and  murmured: 


we  can  see  that  the  love  between  Meldrum  and  Debby,  breaking 
out  with  apparent  suddenness  here,  has  in  truth  been  thoroughly 
motivated.  Therefore  Debby's  decision  to  consult  Newt  about  her 
duty  to  Asaph,  besides  being  in  itself  an  indication  of  her  uncon- 
scious regard  for  and  dependence  on  him,  clearly  constitutes  a 
decisive  moment;  what  follows  is  practically  inevitable,  according 
to  prevailing  human  experience.  The  student  will  notice  too  the 
effectiveness  of  the  sudden  emotional  outburst  in  this  incident — 
another  instance  of  the  contrast,  both  explicit  and  imj^licit,  which 
contributes  so  much  to  the  ultimate  effectiveness  of  the  story.) 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  285 

164.  "  And  now  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  " 

165.  He  gazed  at  her  for  a  long  while  before  he 
answered : 

166.  "Do  you  want  to  go  to  Crawford's?" 

167.  "  Well,  I'd  get  more  money  and  I'd  get  to  see 
New  York,  but  I  don't  like  to  leave  Asaph.  He  says  he 
needs  me." 

168.  "  Do  you — do  you  want  to  marry  Asaph?  " 

169.  "  Oh,  no;  I — I  like  him  awfully  much,  but — I — 
I'm  kind  of  afraid  of  him,  too.    But  he  says  he  needs  me." 

170.  "  But  do  you— love  Asaph  ?  " 

171.  "  Oh,  no !  Not  the  kind  of  love,  that  is,  that  you 
read  about.  No,  I'm  kind  of  afraid  of  him.  But  I'm 
not  expecting  the  kind  of  love  you  read  about.  I'm  won- 
dering what  I  ought  to  do  ?  " 

172.  "  And  you  want  me  to  decide  ?  " 

173.  "  If  you  only  would." 

174.  "  Why  do  you  leave  it  to  me  of  all  people  ?  " 

175.  "  Because  you're  such  a  fine  man ;  you  know  so 
much.  I  have  more — more  respect  for  you  than  for  any- 
body else  I  know." 

176.  "  You  have !  " 

177.  "  Oh,  yes !     Oh,  yes,  indeed." 

178.  "  And  you'll  do  what  I  tell  you  to  ?  " 

179.  "  Yes— yes,  I  will." 

180.  "Promise?" 

181.  "  I  promise." 

182.  "  Give  me  your  hand  on  it." 

183.  He  rose  and  stood  before  her  and  put  forth  that 
great  palm  of  his  and  she  set  her  slim  white  fingers  in  it. 
And  then  there  must  have  been  an  earthquake  or  some- 
thing, for  suddenly  she  was  swept  to  her  feet  and  she  was 


2SG  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

enveloped  in  his  big  arms  and  crushed  against  him,  and 
his  big  mouth  was  pressed  so  fiercely  to  hers  that  she  could 
not  breathe. 

184.  She  was  so  frightened  that  her  heart  seemed  to 
break.  She  knew  nothing  more  till  she  found  herself  in 
the  patent-rocker,  with  him  kneeling  at  her  side,  pleading 
with  her  to  forgive  him  for  the  brute  he  was. 

185.  She  was  verv  weak  and  very  much  afraid  of  him, 
r.nd  entirely  bewildered.  She  wanted  to  run  away,  but  he 
would  not  even  let  her  rise.  The  only  thing  that  reas- 
sured her  was  his  saying  over  and  over  again : 

186.  "  You  are  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  this  world." 

187.  She  had  to  laugh  at  that;  and  she  heard  herself 
saying : 

188.  "  Why,  Xewt  Meldrum,  one  of  us  must  be  crazy." 

189.  "  I  am — crazy  with  love  of  you." 

190.  "  But  to  call  me  beautiful — poor  old  Debby !  " 

191.  "You  are  beautiful;  you're  the  handsomest 
woman  I  know." 

192.  "  Me — with  my  white  hair!  " 

193.  "■'  White  roses.  I  don't  know  what's  happened  to 
you,  Debby.  You're  not  the  woman  I  talked  to  at  Asaph's 
at  all.  You're  like  a  girl — with  silver  hair.  You've  got 
a  woman's  big  heart,  and  you  haven't  the  selfishness  of  the 
young,  but  that  kind  of  wonderful  sadness  that  sweetens 
a  soul  more  than  anything  else,  and  you're  the  darnedest 
prettiest  thing  I  ever  laid  eyes  on." 

194.  Meldrum  was  as  much  amazed  as  Deborah  was 
at  hearing  such  rhapsodies  from  his  matter-of-fact  soul. 

195.  Her  comment  was  prosaic  enough;  she  fell  back 
and  sighed : 

196.  "  Well,  I  guess  both  of  us  must  be  crazy." 


The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  287 

197.  "  I  guess  we  are,"  he  laughed  boyishly.  "  We'd 
better  get  married  and  keep  the  insanity  in  one  family." 

198.  "  Get  married !  "  she  echoed,  still  befuddled. 
"  And  you  telling  me  what  you  did  ?  " 

199.  "  Yes,  but  I  didn't  know  the  Lord  was  at  work 
on  a  masterpiece  like  you,  girl,  woman,  grandmother, 
child,  beauty,  brains — all  in  one." 

200.  Deborah  was  as  exhausted  by  the  shock  as  if  she 
had  been  stunned  by  lightning.  She  was  tired  out  with 
the  first  kiss  an  impassioned  man  had  ever  pressed  upon 
her  lips,  the  first  bone-threatening  hug  an  ursine  lover  had 
ever  inflicted  upon  her  inexperienced  ribs. 

201.  She  was  more  afraid  of  'Newt  Meldrum  than  she 
had  been  of  Asaph.  But  when  she  told  him  she  would 
think  it  over,  he  declined  to  go.  He  laughed  at  her  pleas. 
She  had  promised  to  abide  by  his  decision,  and  he  had 
decided  that  she  should  go  neither  to  Asaph  nor  to  Craw- 
ford, but  to  New  York — not  as  any  old  buyer,  either,  ex- 
cept of  things  for  her  own  beautiful  body,  and  some  hats 
for  that  fleecy  white  hair  of  hers.  And  she  should  live  in 
New  York,  take  her  mother  there  if  she  wanted,  and  close 
up  this  house  after  they  had  been  married  in  it. 

202.  She  had  been  shaking  her  head  to  all  these  things 
and  dismissing  them  gently  as  the  ravings  of  a  delirious 
boy.     But  now  she  said: 

203.  "  Oh,  I  could  never  be  married  in  this  town." 

204.  "And  why  not?" 

205.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  I  just  couldn't." 

206.  She  was  still  afraid  that  people  w^ould  laugh  at 
her,  but  more  afraid  that  they  would  think  she  was  trying 
to  flaunt  her  triumph  over  them ;  the  triumph  of  marry- 
ing the   great   Newton   Meldrum.      She   could   bear  the 


288  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

lauiihter;  she  was  used  to  the  town's  ridicule.     But  she 
could  not  endure  to  be  triumphing  over  anybody. 

207.  Meldrum  did  not  fret  over  her  motives ;  he  simply 
nodded. 

208.  "  All  right,  then  we'll  be  married  in  New  York, 
llow  soon  can  you  start?  " 

209.  She  stared  at  him,  this  amazing  man.  "  How 
soon  ?  Why,  I  haven't  said  I'd  marry  you  yet.  I'll  have 
to  think  it  over." 

210.  He  laughed  and  crushed  her  in  his  arms  and 
would  not  let  her  breathe  till  she  breathed  "  Yes." 

211.  He  was  the  most  amazing  man.  But  the  men 
were  all  so  amazing  when  you  got  to  know  them.  And  it 
seemed  to  Deborah  that  they  must  have  all  gone  crazy  at 
once. 


211.  The  student  will  derive  profit  from  deciding  for  himself 
why  this  simple,  abrupt,  almost  irrelevant  ending  is  neither  flat, 
insignificant,  nor  inartistic — why  it  is  in  keeping  with  the  mood  of 
the  story,  the  tone  of  the  narrative,  and  the  character  of  the 
central  person. 


HIS  BUBBLE  REPUTATION 

The  Stoey  as  a  Whole 

1.  A  theme  story,  primarily  emphasizing  the  motif  of 
chance  or  even  accident  that  enters  into  affairs,  affecting 
the  most  careful  plans.  The  author  is  an  officer  in  our 
army,  and  has  chosen  military  incident  and  fact  as  the 
material  out  of  which  to  build  up  plot  and  action. 
Through  this  choice  of  materials  the  story  is  given  its 
military  atmosphere  and  tone,  and  limited  to  such  a  range 
of  acts,  persons,  and  descriptions  as  is  consistent  with 
military  fact. 

2.  A  story  that,  by  its  nature,  is  without  a  central 
actor,  in  the  strict  sense.  The  successive  importance  of 
the  main  persons  is  noted  in  the  running  notes.  The  per- 
sons, like  the  incidents,  are  subordinated  to  emphasis  of 
the  motif.  The  manner  of  accomplishing  this,  without 
sacrificing  general  unity,  is  worth  study. 

3.  Very  compact  in  presentation.  Few  details  are 
employed  that  are  not  essentially  involved  in  the  plot. 
The  elements  of  plot,  situation,  character,  and  the  like — 
that  is,  the  basic  fiction-drama  elements — are  so  man- 
aged as  to  contribute  the  necessary  qualities  of  tone, 
atmosphere,  and  setting  mainly  without  the  aid  of  ex- 
traneous concentrative  or  intensifying  matter.  Cf.  the 
running  note  concerning  the  battle  incident.  In  style, 
compact,  direct,  and  effective,  with  rugged  descriptive  and 
narrative  force,  and  no  waste  effort. 

4.  An  instance  of  that  originality  or  "  difference  "  in 

289 


200  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

viewpoint  that  editors  say  they  are  always  seeking.  There 
have  been  many  tales  of  war  and  battle,  but  probably 
never  one  exactly  like  to  this,  in  which — structurally — a 
battle  that  decides  the  destinies  of  nations  is  merely  an  inci- 
dent of  plot  establishment  to  bring  forward  a  theme. 
Most  writers  would  think  the  battle  the  main  thing. 

5.  Admirable  also  for  refraining  everywhere  from  a 
formal  statement  of  the  theme.  The  author  evidently 
thinks  that,  if  the  action  embodies  the  thought,  thinking 
readers  will  be  able  to  grasp  it  without  having  it  put  into 
words  for  them. 


HIS  BUBBLE  EEPUTATION 
By  Capt.  George  Brydges  Rodney,  U.  S.  A. 

Reprinted  from  "Adventure"  for  December,  1913,  by  Permission 

of  the  Editors  and  the  Author. 

(Copyright,  1913,  by  the  Ridgway  Company  ) 

1.  It  was  almost  a  stage-setting — ranged  tents  in  order 
along  the  edge  of  the  clearing;  the  General's  flag,  square, 
blood-red  in  color,  bearing  the  three  white  stars  of  an 
American  lieutenant-general,  waving  at  the  right  of  the 
tent;  the  statuesque  orderly;  the  hurrying  aides  and 
couriers ;  even  to  the  gray-headed  old  negro  cook  bending 
over  his  camp-kettles  under  a  great  beech  where  the  check- 
ered light  of  the  May  sun  dripped  like  molten  gold  on  the 
heavy  grass. 

2.  It  looked  like  a  stage-setting;  but  the  resemblance 
ended  there,  for  no  stage  presentment  could  possibly  imi- 
tate the  deep-throated  throb  of  the  International  Army's 
gun-fire  that  came  fitfully  from  the  northwest,  every  shot 
jarring  the  little  assemblage  like  an  electric  shock.  The 
very  atmosphere  was  surcharged.  It  was  evident  that  the 
storm  must  soon  burst. 

3.  Day  after  day,  the  sun  rising  over  the  long  Spruce 
Eidge  had  overtaken  long,  brown  columns  hurrying  west- 
ward,  westward   ever;   laden   trucks   and   w^agons;   long, 

1.  S.  S.  M.,  124:  4  (especially  C),  5,  6.  On  pars.  1-2,  and  fol- 
lowing, S.  S.  M.,  127 :  9,  10,  11 ;  137 :  2 ;  139  :  4 ;  141 :  9 ;  149  :  19. 
Par.  1  is  setting  merely ;  par.  2  is  this  plus  exposition  and  height- 
ened atmosphere;  par.  3  is  these  plus  activity  (S.  S.  M.,  37:4). 

291 


292  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

venomous-looking  guns  tugging  and  straining  along  the 
rough  mountain  roads.  Long  columns  of  cavalry — 
horsemen  whose  very  appearance  spelled  eflRciency — went 
through  the  woodland,  leaving  the  track  free  for  the  foot- 
troops  and  the  guns  and  wagons — broad-hatted,  brown- 
shirted  cavalrymen,  very  different  indeed  from  the  scarlet, 
blue  and  gold  of  VArmee  Internationale  whose  thousands 
were  massing  to  the  northwest. 

4.  It  was  the  gathering  of  the  clans,  for  every  man  was 
straining  muscle  and  sinew  to  reach  the  Array  of  the 
Center  which,  under  Ware,  the  new  Commander-in-Chief, 
was  hurriedly  preparing  for  Armageddon. 

5.  Three  months  before,  the  Army  of  the  ISTorth,  de- 
fending the  line  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  had  been  forced  back 
by  sheer  weight  of  numbers,  thus  throwing  open  the  fron- 
tier of  the  Great  Lakes.  This  made  necessary  the  with- 
drawal of  the  Army  of  the  Center  from  its  original  posi- 
tion, so  that  ultimately  the  Army  of  the  South,  being  un- 
supported in  an  isolated  position,  had  to  abandon  New 
Orleans  to  the  enemy,  thus  putting  the  entire  line  of  the 
Mississippi  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  and  compelling  Ver 
Planck  to  withdraw  from  Texas. 

6.  When  General  Ware  assumed  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Center  he  found  it  about  to  fight  for  its  very 
existence  and  the  existence  of  its  wings,  with  its  back 
against  the  Spruce  Ridge  and  its  flanks  flung  wide  along 
the  slopes  that  were  blue  with  the  flowering  buckwheat. 


4.  Interest  having  been  aroused,  exposition  becomes  more  di- 
rect and  matter-of-fact.  Pars.  4-5  amount  to  consequential  exposi- 
tion— the  last  stand;  failure  means  ruin  (S.  S.  M.,  171  ff. ;  231), 
Pars.  6-7  present  the  immediate  conditions  aifecting  the  situation 
and  outcome  (consequential  exposition  emphasized). 


His  Bubble  Reputation  293 

Before  it  lay  a  victorious  army  and  between  the  hostile 
forces  was  spread  a  ravaged  countryside  that  showed  the 
depredations  of  the  foe. 

7.  To  make  matters  worse,  Anarchy  was  raising  its 
head  cobra-like  in  Chicago  and  from  the  Pacific  coast 
came  mutterings  of  discontent,  while  dread  for  the  Orient 
was  beginning  to  yawn  and  stretch  in  its  awakening.  For 
the  overturning  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine  would  mean  the 
exploitation  of  a  continent. 

8.  For  years  Ware  had  seen  it  coming  and  for  years 
he  had  been  preparing  himself  to  meet  the  emergency 
when  it  should  come.  'No  nation  can  preach  peace  and 
practise  war.  Since  1820  the  United  States,  clamoring 
loudly  that  no  nation  should  exploit  South  America  for 
purposes  of  colonization,  had  instituted  a  most  relentless 
commercial  war  to  force  its  own  manufactures  into  the 
markets  of  the  world. 

9.  "  When  a  strong  man  armed  keepeth  his  house,  his 
goods  are  in  peace ;  "  but  the  American  people  had  never 
heeded  the  biblical  warning.  The  time  had  come  when 
the  opening  of  the  Panama  Canal  had  revolutionized  the 


8-9.  Three  objects  accompHshed  here:  (1)  attention  centered  on 
the  first  leading  person;  (2)  concentrative  material  introduced 
tending  to  increase  plausibility  of  the  situation  assumed, — a  state 
of  war, — by  presenting  a  reasonable  cause  therefor  (concealed 
motivation)  ;  (3)  expression  of  the  author's  personal  convictions 
by  representing  them  as  the  views  of  a  central  person  and  work- 
ing them  into  the  motivation — well  managed.  It  is  natural  and 
consistent  incorporation  of  viewpoint  in  such  ways  that  enables 
the  short  story  seriously  to  influence  thought  and,  consequently, 
lays  grave  responsibility  on  the  writer  lest  he  preach  a  dangerous 
or  false  doctrine.  Par.  8  scarcely  commends  itself  on  this  score. 
—Inciting  cause,  par.  9  (S.  S.  M.,  74;  85  ff). 


294  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ideas  of  the  world.     The  nations  of  the  Old  World  had 
decided  overnight  to  test  the  Monroe  Doctrine. 

10.  Any  change,  even  the  most  minute,  made  suddenly 
in  a  complex  organization  is  bound  to  cause  confusion.  A 
grain  of  sand  dropped  in  precisely  the  right  place  in  an 
engine  can  cut  it  to  pieces.  A  change  at  the  head  of  so 
delicate  an  organization  as  an  army  is  even  more  demora- 
lizing. General  Ware  realized  at  once  that  the  changes 
which  he  deemed  necessary  could  not  be  made  at  once. 
Later  he  would  get  rid  of  his  ineffectives  as  rapidly  as 
occasion  permitted,  but  at  present  the  men  would  fight  best 
under  their  known  leaders. 

11.  It  is  remarkable  how  custom  can  reconcile  men  to 
almost  anything.  An  army  in  this  is  singularly  like 
a  squid  that  accepts  everything,  and  later,  by  the 
slow  process  of  turning  itself  inside  out,  ejects 
the  useless  matter  from  which  it  has  sucked  the 
vital  juices. 

12.  Ware  found  weaknesses  where  he  had  not  thought 
to  find  them;  corrected  them  only  to  discover  others; 
readjusted  differences,  and  with  the  aid  of  Coulter,  his 
gigantic  Chief  of  Stafi^,  correlated  his  information  to  ac- 
cord with  the  existing  facts.  And  all  this  was  done,  not 
in  weeks  nor  days,  but  in  hours  and  minutes.  For  in 
these  days  Ware  lived  "  in  heart-beats,  not  in  figures  on 
a  dial,"  till  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  evening  General 
Coulter,  sitting  back  on  his  stool,  faced  his  superior 
squarely. 

13.  "  Well,  sir !     The  ax  is  ground." 


11-ff.  Much  like  8-9.  bringing  on  the  first  of  the  real  action  in 
par.  13-16.  Note  the  quickening  of  movement  and  the  "  snap- 
piness  "  that  comes  \yith  the  introduction  of  the  dialogue. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  295 

14.  Ware  nodded.  His  gray  eyes  narrowed  to  pin- 
points. 

15.  "  The  reports  should  be  in  soon  from  the  cavalry- 
screen " 

16.  The  tent-fly  pulled  apart  and  a  gauntlet  snapped 
up  in  salute. 

17.  "  Sir,  General  Hughes  has  desired  me  to  report 
that  today  I  took  a  cavalry  patrol  out  to  the  southwest  as 
far  as  Tanville.  I  found  that  the  enemy's  right  flank  is 
in  the  air  at  that  point.  It  rests  upon  an  open  buckwheat 
field  that  is  fringed  along  the  west  with  a  thicket  of  black 
birch " 

18.  "  What  troops  have  they  in  position  there?  " 


17.  Second  movement  begins.  The  opening  movement  reveals 
the  general  situation  and  makes  us  realize  the  immense  issues 
about  to  be  decided.  The  struggle  required  by  the  plot  is  a  struggle 
between  armies,  and  will  be  the  decisive  struggle  between  nations 
and  consequently  between  national  ideals.  The  action  of  the 
plot  now  actively  enters  the  rising  stage  (S.  S.  M.,  74:92:1-3), 
beginning  with  dialogue  that  expounds  the  necessary  details  about 
the  armies,  and  especially  gives  the  atmosphere  of  military  plan- 
ning. It  thus  realizes  for  us  one  fact  that  is  vital  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  theme  later  on — that  this  struggle  of  nations  by 
means  of  their  armies  is  in  truth  an  intellectual  struggle  between 
generals  (note  that  complicating  elements  of  such  a  struggle  as 
this  would  be  in  actual  warfare  are  omitted — differences  in  equip- 
ment, arms,  ammunition  supply,  etc.     Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  80:3), 

18-32.  Includes  intensifying  detail  (pars.  18-25),  increasing  the 
atmosphere  of  military  situation. — May  be  regarded  as  an  exam- 
ple of  retarded  movement  (Genung,  Practical  Els.  Rhet.).  Now 
that  interest  has  been  caught,  the  story  can  take  time  to  produce 
atmospheric  effect,  give  character  analysis  (pars.  26-27),  etc. — 
What  hints  of  character  can  you  discover  in  the  dialogue?  Is 
the  section  effective  in  producing  verisimilitude  (S.  S.  M.,  92: 14; 
241  ff.)?     Point  out  the  concrete  means  employed  to  accomplish 


296  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

19.  "  The  Third  Division  of  the  Twelfth  Corps,  sir. 
It  is  composed  of  Borchlanders  and  Friesland  troops." 

20.  "  H'm  !  Two  nationalities.  What  guns  have  they 
there  ?  " 

21.  ''  Twelve  field-batteries,  sir,  entrenched.  There  is 
no  cavalry  on  that  flank.  Their  entire  cavalry  force  is 
withdrawing  by  their  own  rear  to  the  left." 

22.  "  Ansterlitz  on  a  minor  scale,"  growled  Coulter. 
"  They  mean  to  pivot  on  their  own  right " 

23.  The  Commander-in-Chief  bent  over  a  map,  stick- 
ing colored  pins  here  and  there  along  the  mountain  range. 

24.  "  Very  good.  Captain,"  he  said  presently.  "  Is 
that  all  ?  " 

25.  "  Yes,  sir." 

26.  The  officer  saluted  and  departed.  The  Chief  of 
Staff  sat  and  watched  his  superior  as  a  cat  might  watch 
a  mouse.  For  a  long  half-hour  Ware  sat,  his  chin  dropped 
forward  upon  his  breast,  studying,  not  the  map,  but  ap- 
parently a  pendant  rope  in  the  tent  corner,  intent,  un- 
seeing. 

27.  Long  ago  he  had  developed  the  self-effacement  of 
an  Indian  guru  and  the  introspective  self-analysis  of  an 
old-time  seer.  Paper  itself  w^as  not  a  better  medium  for 
the  transmission  of  thought  than  was  that  wonderful  brain 
that  worked  and  worked  behind  the  blue-gray  eyes  just  as 
the  twelve  thousand  horse-power  engines  of  a  destroyer 


this. — Note  the  effect  of  conereteness  from  mentioning  specific 
divisions  and  corps  of  the  army,  the  two  hostile  generals,  the 
foreign  places. — Note  the  employment  of  action  (or  activity; 
S.  S.  M.,  136:1;  140-141)  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  sec- 
tion, with  the  non-actional  elements  in  the  middle;  the  activity 
is  thus  made  to  carry  the  other  elements  of  effect,  as  should 
always  be  the  case  in  drama  or  narrative. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  29Y 

work  behind  her  cruising  lights.     He  shook  himself  into 
action,  studying  Coulter  from  under  bent  brows. 

28.  "  Do  you  know  General  Printz,  their  Commander- 
in-Chief  ? "  he  asked. 

29.  "  Yes,  sir.     I  met  him  at " 

30.  "  Never  mind  that.     What  is  he  ?  " 

31.  "A  modern  von  Moltke  without  his  humanizing 
weaknesses.  A  true  materialist  type.  Nothing  that  can 
not  be  proved  by  equations  exists  for  him  and  what  his 
calculations  show  to  be  impossible  simply  cannot  be  done." 

32.  "  That  is  how  I  too  have  summarized  him.  I 
studied  him  at  Spoten  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  studying 
methods  of  mounting  aeroplane  guns.  He  is  all  that  you 
say,  and  more.     Here " 

33.  He  unrolled  a  great  map  upon  the  table  and  threw 
himself  across  it.  Coulter  pinned  it  down  and  placed  four 
tall  candles  upon  the  rough  table,  where  they  guttered  in 
the  night  wind.  A  sentry  tramped  softly  along  the  woods 
trail  outside  the  tent  and  a  chatter  came  from  a  box  in  a 
distant  corner,  where  Ware's  pet  monkey  slept  upon  a 
folded  saddle-blanket.  As  far  as  was  indicated  by  out- 
side noises  one  would  never  have  guessed  the  presence  of 
the  sleeping  thousands  on  the  ground  where  the  long 
bivouac  spread  along  the  sloping  hills. 

34.  "  We  will  fight  at  dawn,  sir."  The  curt  tones  cut 
the  silence  like  a  whip-lash.  The  tent-wall  behind  them 
bellied  in  the  wind  unnoticed  by  either  of  the  men.^ 


33.  The  description  pi'ovides  atmospheric  setting  for  the  im- 
mediate action. 

34.  'Apparently  a  mere  detail  of  the  setting;  its  significance 
becomes  manifest  in  par.  56. 


298  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

35.  "  I  rarely  talk  of  my  plans,  but  I  want  you  to 
understand  clearly  what  I  intend  to  do.  I  mean  to  take 
a  big  risk.  I  mean  to  do  what  Lee  did  at  Chancellors- 
ville/' 

36.  Coulter  uttered  an  exclamation  and  sat  gazing  at 
his  chief. 

37.  "  They  think,"  Ware  went  on  contemplatively, 
"  that  they  have  solved  my  personal  equation  and  that 
their  solution  cannot  be  wrong.  They  believe  that  their 
solution  of  that  equation  is  the  key  to  this  fight  and  to  the 
campaign.  They  have  themselves  reduced  war  to  a  con- 
test of  draughtsmen  and  typewriters.  They  say  that  noth- 
ing is  left  to  chance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Coulter,  we 
trained  soldiers  know  that  the  most  successful  leader  has 
always  been  he  who  left  the  least  to  chance.  What  I  am 
trying  to  say  is " 

38.  He  rose  and,  rummaging  in  a  field-desk,  produced 
a  small  card-index,  well  thumbed,  which  he  placed  before 
him  upon  the  table. 

39.  "  This  is  a  copy  of  my  personal  dossier  that  Gen- 
eral Printz  has  spent  two  years  in  completing.  It  took 
two  men  a  year  to  get  it  for  me,  but  I  have  discovered 
their  opinion  of  me.     Listen."     He  read  slowly: 

"  Brave,  intelligent.     'No  great  audacity. 
Trained  after  European  models.     See  Milfelling  and 
Pschorrleben." 


37.  The  idea  of  the  importance  of  the  generals  is  again  empha- 
sized; of.  closing  comment  on  par.  17.  Pars.  37-41,  and  several 
others,  contain  interesting  revelation  of  modern  mihtary  methods. 
Besides  intensifying  the  miUtary  atmosphere,  these  contribute 
strongly  to  the  impression  of  verisimilitude. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  299 

40.  "  Now,  Coulter,  the  man  who  wrote  those  notes  is 
not  only  firmly  wedded  to  his  own  ideals  in  waging  war, 
but  he  cannot  conceive  that  his  own  estimate  of  others  can 
possibly  be  wrong.  He  cannot  conceive  of  audacity  in 
others  unless  it  is  authorized  by  his  own  text-books. 

41.  "  For  forty  years  the  Continental  schools  have 
taught  that  Lee's  famous  movement  at  Chancellorsville 
would  have  been  suicidal  if  made  before  a  European  army 
and  that  he  would  never  have  dared  make  it  had  he  not 
known  the  personal  equation  of  Hooker.  They  say  they 
know  mine  now  and  their  own  dossier  shows  me  to  be  like 
Hooker.  By  consequence,  I  dare  not  move.  I  have  no 
audacity.  Obviously  the  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to  copy  Lee. 
Give  me  the  stamp-pad  and  I  will  place  the  troops." 

42.  The  canvas  wall  of  the  tent  bellied  spasmodically 


40.  This  and  41  really  contain  comment  on  the  weakness  in  the 
military,  intellectual,  and  spiritual  character  of  the  gi^eatest  mili- 
tary nation  of  the  world,  the  self-woi'shiping  Germans.  They 
are  therefore  paragraphs  of  (hidden)  social  characterization. 
(Instances  of  this  characteristically  German  attitude  of  mind  have 
been  so  numerous  since  Germany  began  her  attack  on  art  and 
the  humanitarian  bases  of  civilization  as  to  verify  beyond  dis- 
pute the  interpretation  given  in  this  story.)  Cf.  par.  37,  and 
watch  for  other  instances. 

41.  The  characterization  of  Ware  that  has  been  gradually  build- 
ing up  from  par.  17  forward  culminates  here.  Note  that  Ware's 
conduct  invalidates  the  assumption  of  the  enemy  strategists,  as 
Ware  himself  explains  in  par.  40.  Later  we  shall  have  reason 
to  note  that  Ware's  careful  reasoning  is  itself  futile,  and  that 
something  like  pure  chance  (yet  chance  motivated  on  recognized 
fact,  not  accidental  chance)  determines  the  outcome.  All  this  is 
involved  in  the  theme-concept. 

42.  '  The  four  closing  words  begin  to  give  us  the  sense  of  some- 
thing significant  but  as  yet  unexplained  in  this  bellying  of  the 
tent;  cf.  34  and  44. — Observe  in  the  following  paragraphs  the 
congruous  realistic  detail. 


300  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

as  if  uiulor  pressure.^  But  it  passed  unnoticed  as  the  two 
men  flung  themselves  prone  upon  the  table,  General  Ware 
with  the  little  blue  stamp-pad  and  the  oblong  rubber  stamp 
that  indicated  a  division,  with  which  he  meant  to  block 
out  upon  the  map  the  location  of  his  troops  for  the  fight 
that  was  to  take  place  upon  the  morrow. 

43.  ''  Here  I  will  place  Avery,  Morton,  and  Bell." 
The  stamp  came  down  viciously.  "  Here  are  Gates,  At- 
wood,  and  Holton  with  the  artillery.  Put  Weston  with 
his  cavalry  far  out  to  the  left  by  Turner's  farm.  If  our 
plan  succeeds  at  all  we  will  have  use  for  Weston  there,  for 
that  is  their  strategical  flank.  And  now,  here  on  the  Gran- 
ville Road,  I  will  block  out  the  troops  for  the  turning 
movement.  Hopkins  will  command  them  and  we  will 
give  him  every  rifle  not  absolutely  needed  elsewhere.  If 
Hopkins  can  make  this  turning  movement,  the  day  is 
ours." 

44.  Again  and  again  the  stamp  came  down  while 
Coulter  feverishly  jotted  down  in  his  note-book  the  details 
for  his  orders  and  the  canvas  wall  pushed  in  and  in. 
There  was  a  vicious  chuckle  from  the  corner  of  the  tent 
where  the  monkey  coughed  and  chattered  over  the  draught ; 
for  the  night  air  was  cold  as  it  drew  down  from  the  higher 
peaks. 

45.  "  Confound  that  beast  Toto !  I  wish  I  had  left 
him  at  home." 

46.  Ware  threw  a  bit  of  paper  at  the  animal  and  went 


44.  The  monkey's  behavior,  like  the  bellying  of  the  tent  in  34, 
seems  for  the  moment  nothing  more  than  a  bit  of  realistic  detail. 
In  fact,  however,  we  are  being  prepared  for  the  determining  ele- 
ment of  the  plot. 


His  Bubble  Eeputation  301 

on  with  his  work.     Presently  the  two  men  sat  back  and 
stared  at  each  other.     The  plan  was  complete. 

47.  General  Ware  rose,  slowly  changed  his  coat,  drew 
on  his  gloves  and  stared  hard  at  Coulter.  His  look  went 
through  him  and  through  the  tent-wall  to  the  long  lines 
of  his  sleeping  infantry  upon  the  hills  outside. 

48.  "  I  am  going  to  ride  over  to  see  McCann,"  he  said. 
"  I  should  be  back  in  two  or  three  hours.  The  news  will 
be  in  from  the  cavalry  by  one  o'clock  at  latest.  As  soon 
as  it  comes  in,  if  there  is  no  change,  make  out  the  orders 
to  the  Corps  Commanders  as  I  have  directed.  Be  sure 
that  they  get  them  in  plenty  of  time  to  get  their  men  into 
position  an  hour  before  daylight.  We  will  attack  at 
dawn " 

49.  "  General,  have  you  thought  of  what  will  happen 
if  the  enemy  should  discover  this  gap  that  you  are  leaving 
between  Hopkins  on  the  left  and  the  center  while  Hopkins 
is  getting  into  position  ?  " 

50.  "  Yes,  sir !  I  have  thought  and  thought  till  I  think 
my  brain  was  atrophied.  Each  move  that  I  contemplate 
has  its  reverse  side.  I  refuse  any  longer  to  consider  it. 
'  To  make  an  omelet  it  is  necessary  to  break  eggs.'  I  will 
take  this  risk  exactly  as  Lee  took  it  when  he  showed  all 
the  world  how  to  fight.  Send  out  the  orders  for  a  fight  at 
daylight." 

51.  Coulter  slowly  left  the  tent  and  looked  back  once 
to  see  Ware  scanning  critically  for  the  last  time  the  map 
on  which  he  had  placed  his  troops.  From  his  place  in 
front  of  the  tent  he  heard  Ware  pass  behind  him  and  then 
he  heard  the  receding  tramp  of  the  iron-shod  hoofs  along 

49.  Reintroduction  (therefore  emphasis  of)  consequential  expo- 
sition j  cf.  4. 


302  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  soft  woods  road.     He  turned  sighing,  his  face  gray 
with  care  as  he  bade  a  courteous  good-night  to  the  orderly. 

52.  "  He  may  be  right,"  he  muttered.  "  He  may  be 
right What  was  that  ?  " 

53.  "  The  new  sentry  being  posted  on  Number  One, 
sir,"  said  the  corporal. 

54.  "  Very  good." 

55.  He  tramped  heavily  over  to  his  own  tent;  the  can- 
vas fly  dropped  into  place  behind  him  and  Toto  shivered 
and  chattered  in  his  cold  loneliness  in  the  big  tent. 

56.  Presently  a  curious  thing  happened.  Ware's  coat, 
which  lay  upon  a  stool,  began  to  move  slowly  toward  the 
tent-wall  and  gradually  disappeared  under  the  edge.  A 
moment  later  the  bottom  of  the  wall  was  raised  and  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  a  man  appeared.  He  hastily 
scanned  the  interior  of  the  tent,  drew  himself  inside, 
crouched  for  a  moment  in  the  shadow  of  the  table  till  the 
receding  steps  of  the  sentry  told  that  the  guard  had  passed. 
Then  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  threw  himself  at  the  great 
map  upon  which  the  Commander-in-Chief  had  so  carefully 
blocked  out  the  position  of  his  divisions.  The  next  few 
moments  set  their  seal  upon  him,  for  men  age  rapidly 
in  war. 


56-61.  The  generating  circumstance  (S.  S.  M.,  74:85ff.).  So 
far  as  narrational  and  dramatic  machinery  is  concei'ned,  the  plot 
conflict  involves  merely  the  question,  will  Ware,  by  his  careful 
planning,  outgeneral  the  invading  eommandei's;  from  this  point 
of  view,  the  fact  that  the  existence  of  the  nation  depends  on  the 
battle  is  irrelevant,  except  that  it  intensifies  interest  in  the 
dramatic  struggle.  If  we  keep  this  in  mind,  we  perceive  that 
the  status  quo  (S.  S.  M.,  85:1)  has  been  threatened  with  no 
change  until  the  spy  gets  to  the  map ;  here  then  is  the  generating 
circumstance  according  to  the  purely  technical  definition. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  303 

57.  "  I  wish  I  could  have  heard  all  they  said,"  he  mut- 
tered.    "  Given  five  minutes  here  and  the  work  is  done." 

58.  In  the  windy  silence  his  whisper  sounded  in  his 
own  ears  as  loud  as  a  shout.  He  pulled  from  his  pocket 
a  strip  of  tracing-cloth,  spread  it  across  the  map,  seized 
the  rubber  stamp  and  the  felt  pad  that  still  lay  where 
Ware  had  left  them  upon  the  table.  In  a  short  half- 
minute  he  had  reproduced  upon  his  narrow  paper  the 
work  that  had  taken  Ware  days  to  plan — and  years  to 
learn. 

59.  "  So !  He  means  to  hold  us  in  front  with  these 
skeleton  divisions  and  make  a  turning  movement  to  take 
us  by  surprise  and  roll  up  our  left  flank  with  the  rest ! 
Yet  Priutz  says  the  man  has  no  daring !  To  make  merely 
a  show  of  resistance  in  our  front — and  this  against  the 
crack  troops  of  Europe !  Oh,  the  sheer  luck  of  this  trip 
of  mine  tonight!     What's  that?" 

60.  It  was  Coulter  calling  for  an  orderly.  The  spy 
glanced  about  him  and  again  bent  over  the  table,  his  back 
to  the  tent  door  as  the  newly  posted  sentry  passed.  He 
took  his  time  over  that  tracing,  for  he  knew  that  even  if 
the  sentry  should  see  him  the  soldier  would  think  it  was 
the  General  at  work. 

61.  A  gust  of  wet  wind  drove  through  the  tent.  Toto 
shrieked  and  raved  profanely  in  his  cold  blankets.  The 
man  started  violently  and  threw  the  stamp  at  him,  rolled 
up  his  tracing-cloth,  removed  the  General's  coat,   dived 


61.  Five  words  in  sentence  3  give  us,  although  we  do  not  sus- 
pect it,  the  decisive  moment — so  far  as  it  can  be  actually  located 
in  this  story.  A  surprise  effect  is  given  to  the  story  by  the 
realization  of  this  when  at  last  we  do  realize  it. 


301:  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

under  the  tent  wall  and  disappeared.  The  wet  silence  of 
the  night  was  broken  only  by  the  stamp  of  the  restive 
horses  and  the  low-voiced  talk  of  the  headquarters  guard. 

62.  Standing  under  his  tent-fly,  General  Coulter  re- 
ceived the  reports  from  the  advance  cavalry,  slowly  noted 
them  down  and  checked  off  time  and  distance  upon  his 
map.  ^Vhen  the  last  officer  had  reported,  he  bade  them 
good  night  and  reentered  the  headquarters  tent.  A  long 
silence  fell  that  was  broken  presently  by  the  smashing 
blow  of  a  heavy  fist  upon  a  table  and  a  deep-voiced  growl 
of  approval  that  brought  an  aide  from  his  tiny  tent. 

63.  "Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  General  Coulter?" 

64.  "  Yes,  sir !  " 

65.  Coulter  sprang  to  his  feet,  for  his  excitement  was 
tremendous.  "  You  can  get  down  upon  your  knees  and 
thank  the  God  of  Battles,  if  you  believe  in  one  in  this 
degenerate  age,  for  having  given  us  a  man  at  last." 

66.  The  astonished  aide,  after  a  puzzled  look  at  the 
excited  Chief  of  Staff,  withdrew,  leaving  Coulter  seated 
at  the  table  lost  in  contemplation  as  he  pulled  nervously 
at  his  mustache. 

67.  "  By  Heaven,  and  he  talked  to  me  as  though  I 
were  a  child !  Was  all  that  to  blind  me  or  to  persuade 
himself  ?  I  never  expected  to  see  in  this  world  such  mas- 
terly use  of  terrain.  What  could  be  better  than  this !  It 
will  be  like  asking  a  man  to  a  Barmecide  feast  and  giving 

62-64.  Coulter's  exclamation  makes  us  wonder  for  a  moment 
why  he  is  so  enthusiastic  now,  when  (par.  49-52)  he  was  previ- 
ously so  dubious.  But  it  is  not  until  the  entire  outcome  has  been 
explained  (see  preceding  note)  that  we  understand  the  reason  for 
it. — Perhaps  the  lapse  of  time  is  not  indicated  with  sufficient 
emphasis  before  Coulter's  return  to  headquarters  tent.  Passage 
of  time  is  not  made  as  clear  as,  for  instance,  it  is  in  par.  68. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  305 

him   a  banquet   fit  for  Lucullus.      Orderly,   call   in   tbe 
clerks." 

68.  For  more  than  an  hour  he  sat  there  dictating,  test- 
ing, and  retesting  his  own  orders.  A  scant  two  hours  be- 
fore dawn  he  threw  himself  upon  his  cot,  while  the  wires 
of  the  field  telegraph  and  telephones  clicked  and  whirred 
with  the  orders  that  were  to  move  three  hundred  thousand 
men  when  the  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun  should  lighten 
the  shadows  of  the  Spruce  Ridge. 

69.  Dawn  came  at  last ;  a  perfect  May  day,  ushered 
into  being  by  a  crash  of  artillery  that  woke  every  echo  of 

69-91.  The  third  movement.  As  far  as  par.  89,  it  presents  the 
outcome — shows  (apparently)  the  triumph  of  Ware's  plan  of  bat- 
tle. No  mention  of  the  spy  or  his  work  is  made,  and  we  are  left  to 
infer  that  in  some  way  he  failed.  Beginning  with  par.  90,  intro- 
duction of  the  facts  that  contain  the  surprise  and  afford  the  true 
explanation  of  the  outcome  is  begun. — Note  that  now  it  is  Coulter 
who  appears  as  the  leading  person.  At  first  thought,  one  would 
say  that  the  story  suffers  from  a  shifting  of  importance  from  one 
person  to  another — from  Ware  to  Coulter  (and  possibly  at  one 
point  to  the  spy;  the  personality  of  the  invading  generals  also 
receives  attention).  Consideration  of  the  story  as  a  whole,  how- 
ever, shows  that  this  shifting  is  an  essential  element  of  the  effect. 
The  hostile  commanders  laid  their  plans;  Ware  laid  his  plans; 
the  enemy  countered  them  on  the  spy's  information;  Coulter 
directed  the  battle  like  a  great  general — on  the  new  plan  that  he 
believed  to  be  that  of  his  chief;  but  in  fact,  when  all  the  ablest 
soldiers  had  done  their  best,  the  outcome  was  the  result  of  none 
of  these  things  immediately,  but  of  an  unforeseen  bit  of  chance 
on  which  the  battle  turned — a  chance  perfectly  natural,  yet  so 
remote  that  human  intellect  could  not  have  dreamed  of  it.  The 
unity  of  the  story,  therefore,  does  not  depend  upon  unity  of 
person,  nor  yet  upon  unity  of  time,  motivation,  action,  setting, 
or  atmosphere  (although  these  latter  are  all  adequately  present)  ; 
its  sustaining  unity  is  that  of  motif  and  theme — the  thought  that 
the  most  careful  purposes  of  men  are  subject  for  good  or  ill 


306  ToDAY*s  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  hills  and  hung  in  clamor  along  the  pine-clad  slopes. 
The  first  reverberating  roar  found  Coulter,  iron-visaged, 
standing  before  his  tent,  vast,  imperturbable. 

70.  To  him  couriers  came  galloping  intent  and  anxious. 
To  him  came  '  gallopers  '  bearing  requests  for  aid  and  to 
each  he  gave  the  same  reply;  the  immortal  reply  of  the 
Iron  Duke  in  like  case : 

Yl.    "  General  Penton  requires  support,  sir " 

72.  "  Is  he  cut  to  pieces  ?  " 

73.  "  No,  sir ;  but " 

74.  "  Tell  him  to  stay  where  he  is.  He  can  have  no 
assistance." 


to  happenings  or  influences  beyond  their  control  or  foresight. 
Evidently,  the  shifting  of  attention  from  person  to  person  is 
required  by  the  central  thought.  See  S.  S.  M.,  178-189.— The 
monkey  is  the  deus  ex  machina,  and — in  effect — almost  the  cen- 
tral person.  Observe  how,  by  realization  of  the  scene  at  head- 
quarters, the  progress  of  the  battle  up  to  its  decisive  turn  is 
effectively  described ;  our  interest  of  course  is  with  our  own  army, 
and  our  suspense  is  greatest  in  sharing  the  crisis  with  our  own 
commander.  The  change  (par.  81)  to  Printz's  viewpoint  is 
instinctive;  we  like  to  see  the  other  side  when  it  is  getting 
whipped.  Further,  the  main  dramatic  activity  is  for  the  moment 
that  of  the  crumpled  and  disintegrating  ranks  of  the  defeated 
army.  Study  the  gradual  swingback  (pars.  82-83)  to  Coulter 
and  the  American  side,  and  so  through  84-85  to  the  progress  of 
the  plot  again  (the  episode  of  the  battle  is  largely  an  intensifying 
incident). — Cf.  the  rapid  movement  of  pars.  90-97  with  the  re- 
tarded movement  of  69-89.  What  reasons  do  you  find  for  giving 
the  latter  three  times  as  much  space  as  the  former?  Is  the  battle 
episode  of  intrinsic  interest  (S.  S.  M.,  100:18-22,  especially  22) 
as  well  as  of  plot  interest?  Is  the  result  of  the  battle  sufficiently 
important  toward  preserving  the  sense  of  importance  in  the  plot 
to  warrant  the  retarded,  or  amplified,  treatment  (cf.  note  on  par. 
17)  ?  Is  the  retarded  movement  helpful  towai'd  creating  an 
impression  of  lapse  of  time?  On  the  other  hand,  is  the  return  of 
the  general  of  great  atmosphex'ic,  suspense  or  interest  value,  or 


His  Bubble  Reputation  307 

Y5.  And  again  the  tense,  whispering  silence  of  the 
pines,  accentuated  by  the  swirling  roar  of  the  guns  where 
they  broke  out  into  full-voiced  chorus. 

76.  It  was  Coulter  who,  pale,  stern,  even-eyed,  sat  his 
horse  among  the  Staff  while  three  Corps-Commanders 
raged  about  him.  It  was  he,  too,  who  gave  the  famous 
answer  that  went  ringing  into  history. 

77.  "  The  artillery  is  overmatched.  General  Coulter. 
The  enemy  means  to  break  through  our  center  by  Weston 
Hill,"  an  aide,  reining  in  a  foaming  horse,  had  said. 

78.  "  Then,  sir,  we  will  give  them  what  we  have  today. 
There  will  be  no  tomorrow." 


is  it  merely  a  detail  necessary  for  the  continuity  of  the  narrative  ? 
— About  plot  management :  Does  the  plot  inescapably  require  the 
absence  of  Ware  during  the  battle?  Why  was  not  a  separate 
movement  devoted  to  him  and  his  disappearance  before  the  ac- 
count of  the  battle?  Would  the  details  of  this  incident  have 
been  relatively  significant  enough  to  the  establishment  of  the 
motif  and  theme  to  justify  their  presentation  at  length  (i.e.,  are 
details  needed)  ?  Would  our  understanding  of  the  situation  dur- 
ing the  battle — his  absence  and  Coulter's  assumption  of  command 
— have  been  clearer  if,  following  par.  55  or  68  (or  somewhere 
between)  a  brief  paragraph  had  been  inserted,  giving  the  facts 
that  are  put  by  the  author  in  pars.  99-104? — For  the  moment, 
regard  par.  89  as  the  last  paragraph  of  the  story.  Evidently  it 
would  be  an  excellent  telescoped  ending  (S.  S.  M.,  115-119)  for 
a  story  that  centered  in  the  battle  interest.  What  would  be 
necessary,  however,  by  way  of  recast  to  turn  this  story  into  a 
battle  stoi-y?  It  can  readily  be  done  by  omitting  the  spy  incident 
and  closing  with  par.  89;  practically  no  other  reconstruction  is 
needed,  for  the  references  to  the  monkey  can  stand  as  mere 
picturesque  detail.  This  fact  offers  good  opportunity  for  study 
of  the  functioiTof  plot  incident  (S.  S.  M.,  107  ff.).  The  incident 
of  the  spy  is  plot  incident  for  the  story  as  it  stands,  but  would 
be  irrelevant  in  the  mere  battle  story — this  showing  how  introduc- 
tion or  omission  of  essential  incidents  changes  outcome,  purpose, 
and  effects 


308  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

79.  Long  afterward,  men  looking  back  upon  those  next 
few  moments  told  each  his  own  tale,  for  no  two  men  saw 
the  same.  It  was  a  maze  to  Coulter,  who  was  fighting  two 
fights — his  own  and  his  General's — for  Ware  had  not 
returned  and  Coulter  realized  well  enough  that  should  his 
absence  become  known  twenty  incompetent  hands  would 
be  stretched  out  for  the  reins.  The  best  that  he  could  do 
was  to  remain  silent ;  for  after  all,  once  the  men  were  com- 
mitted to  the  fight,  it  was  a  soldier's  battle. 

80.  So  he  sat,  grim-faced  and  silent,  while  his  divi- 
sions pushed  forward  in  long  lines  of  cheering,  brown-clad 
men.  So  he  sat  and  watched  that  slow  but  never-ceasing 
advance  of  the  enemy;  the  awful  moment  when  two  hun- 
dred guns  opened  upon  him  from  Halidon  Hill  and  the 
consequent  lull  when  Printz  found  that  gap  in  the  Ameri- 
can line  and  pushed  into  it  with  all  the  force  that  he  could 
gather;  and  finally  that  short  but  heaven-rocking  moment 
when  the  whole  line  of  the  enemy,  blinded  and  bewildered, 
shrank  back  under  the  furious  fervor  of  the  newly  awak- 
ened fight  at  center. 

81.  Printz  saw  the  repulse  from  where  he  sat  his  horse 
among  the  batteries  on  Halidon  Hill.  He  saw  the  long 
lines  of  his  matchless  infantry  move  slowly  to  the  advance ; 
saw  the  attack  quicken ;  saw  the  American  center  burst 
into  an  unsuspected  crater  of  fire  and  saw  his  long  lines 
strain  back.  Then  he  heard  the  renewed  roar  of  the  guns 
and  marked  the  rush  of  Weston's  squadrons  upon  his 
right.  It  was  the  moment  for  the  counter-stroke  and  he 
bent  to  the  shock. 

82.  There  was  no  withstanding  that  counter-stroke.  It 
was  delivered^  not  when  the  text-books  say  it  should  be 


His  Bubble  Reputation"  309 

delivered,  at  the  moment  of  recoil,  but  at  the  moment 
when  success  seemed  assured  to  I'Armee  Internationale, 
when  all  of  its  powers  were  keyed  up  to  success.  Printz 
felt  rather  than  saw  the  two  dangerous  nippers,  those  far- 
reaching  flanks  of  Coulter's,  swing  around  upon  his  own 
flanks  while  the  charge  of  the  American  center  was  pushed 
home  squarely  in  his  face. 

83.  If  there  is  in  this  world  anything  that  is  really 
impossible  it  is  to  hold  and  reform  broken  and  defeated 
troops  in  the  face  of  a  victorious  foe  who  means  to  take 
toll  of  them.  From  his  position  in  rear  of  his  center, 
General  Coulter  issued  the  orders  for  a  pursuit  that  should 
push  Printz  beyond  the  verge  of  exhaustion.  Few  orders 
were  required,  for  every  man  realized  that  the  moment 
was  at  last  come  when  victory  hung  poised  above  the  eagles 
of  the  Republic. 

84.  Coulter  eyed  his  advancing  columns,  watched  his 
reserve  guns  go  past  in  all  the  maddening  thunder  of  an 
advance  by  battalion  and  noted  the  quick  swirl  of  red  dust 
where  Weston's  cavalry  was  going  in. 

85.  "  If  only  Ware  could  have  been  here  to  see  it !  "  he 
muttered.  His  regret  was  but  half-spoken.  There  was  no 
time  to  wait  even  for  news  of  his  missing  chief,  for  he 
meant  that  those  retreating  blue  columns  should  be  pushed 
back  to  the  very  shores  of  the  Great  Lake  that  gleamed 
dully  like  a  naked  sword  under  the  heavy  skies  to  the 
northwest. 

86.  Where  could  Ware  be  ?  What  could  have  delayed 
him?  What  could  have  happened  to  deprive  the  vic- 
torious army  this  day  of  the  leadership  of  the  wonderful 
brain  that  had  planned  this  mighty  conflict  ? 

87.  So  all  day  long  the  enemy  rolled  along  through  the 


310  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

knee-deep  mud  of  the  sodden  roads — for  the  after-the- 
battle  rains  had  set  in — and  from  every  height  Coulter's 
shells  searched  out  their  retreating  columns.  Bridges 
were  destroyed  by  Weston's  indefatigable  squadrons; 
wagons  broke  down  and  jammed  the  roads  and  through 
them  all  sifted  the  ruck  of  the  disheartened  infantry,  a 
veritable  babel  of  tongues,  shrill-accented,  self-seeking, 
flinging  their  arms  aside  in  heading  flight. 

88.  Coulter  kept  his  place  till  late  in  the  day,  receiving 
the  reports  from  the  pursuing  columns.  It  was  nearly 
dusk  when  he  shut  up  his  glasses  and  turned  to  an  aide. 

89.  "  It  is  all  over,  sir.  Wire  General  Acton  to  con- 
centrate at  Tioga  for  the  pursuit " 

90.  He  stopped  short  in  his  surprise  at  the  sight  of  a 
soiled  and  stained  figure  that  was  slowly  and  painfully 
stumbling  up  the  rear  slope  of  the  hill.  Coulter  sprang 
from  his  horse,  ran  forward  and  passed  his  arm  about  the 
shoulders  of  General  Ware. 

91.  "General — General!"  he  almost  shouted.  "This 
is  the  best  news  of  the  day.  A  little  brandy,  quickly. 
Major  Fosdick — and  a  blanket.    What  is  it,  sir ?  " 


91-122.  The  fourth  and  last  movement  begins  at  91  (or  98). 
Pars.  91-122  gradually  lead  toward  and  prepare  us  for  the  disclo- 
sure of  the  decisive  act ;  cf .  note  on  par.  61.  The  reader  now  senses 
fully  that  he  is  approaching  the  explanation,  and  feels  the  sus- 
pense of  anticipatory  delay  (see  S.  S.  M.,  75,  n.  2).  Observe  how, 
in  this  falling  action,  suspense  is  conserved,  especially  in  the 
distributed  detail  concerning  Ware's  absence  and  mishap,  mingled 
with  passages  of  dialogue  all  pointing  clearly  to  coming  explana- 
tion of  the  events  now  past. — According  to  definition,  the  falling 
action  (in  the  plot  sense)  began  with  the  decisive  moment  (n.  on 
par.  61) ;  but  with  the  surprise  effect  in  mind,  the  author  con- 
cealed the  significance  of  this  incident  (S.  S.  M,,  39-40;  117:5). 
On.  continuance  of  the  struggle  after  the  decisive  moment,  with 


His  Bubble  Reputation  311 

92.  Thej  hastily  made  room,  spreading  a  saddle-blanket 
beneath  a  bush  and  watched  the  shaken  Commander- 
in-Chief  as  he  gulped  greedily  at  the  proffered  cup. 
His  eyes  were  deep-sunken  and  his  face  was  badly 
bruised.  About  his  head  he  wore  a  blood-stained  bandage 
that  had  been  improvised  from  several  first-aid 
packets. 

93.  "  What  has  happened,  Coulter  ?  " 

94.  Coulter's  voice  betrayed  his  triumph. 

95.  "  It  is  most  unfortunate,  sir,  that  you  could  not 
have  been  here  to  see  the  fulfilment  of  your  plans.  We 
are  driving  them  in  headlong  rout " 

96.  "  Then  Hopkins  succeeded  in  turning  them  as  I 
had  planned.  Printz  was  in  error  then  and  I  was  right ! 
I  would  have  staked  my  reputation  on  it.  I  did  stake  my 
reputation  on  it.  Coulter.     It  had  to  be " 

97.  For  answer  Coulter  motioned  to  the  staff  to  with- 
draw and  leaned  forward  across  the  blanket. 

98.  "  JSTo,  General,   Hopkins  did  not  turn  them.     It 


accompanying  rise  in  interest,  see  S.  S.  M.,  93 :  4-5  and  footnote 
9 ;  ef .  S.  S.  M.,  119  £f.  A  review  of  the  sections  on  rising  action 
and  falling  action  is  advisable.  See  also  S.  S.  M.,  154 :  7  and 
n.  14. — The  present  story  affords  an  excellent  illustration  of  com- 
plexly related  facts  presented  strictly  in  the  chronological  order 
(S.  S.  M.,  151-157).  Everything  is  placed  in  the  strict  order  of 
its  happening,  with  one  exception :  the  accident  to  Ware  is  not 
told  at  the  time  of  its  happening,  but  is  narrated  episodically  at 
the  time  of  his  return.  But  even  this  is  scarcely  a  departure 
from  the  strict  time  order,  for  his  absence  is  noted  when  it 
occurred,  and  the  explanation  of  it  is  made  at  that  point  in  the 
story  where  it  would  come  in  fact — on  his  return. 

98-99.  Observe  the  means  employed  to  stimulate  suspense.  As 
any  story  approaches  its  close,  the  accumulated  mterest  of  plot 
and  action  should  carry  it  forward ;  yet  these  may  easily  drop  off, 


312  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

was  your  change  in  the  plans  at  the  last  moment  that  won 
the  day.  It  was  the  rearrangement  of  troops  that  did  it, 
sir.  It  was  absolutely  the  most  masterly  thing  I  have  ever 
seen." 

99.  ''Change  of  plans?  What  change  of  plans?  Re- 
distribution of  troops  ?  I  made  none,  sir.  I  left  orders, 
strict  orders,  sir,  for  General  Hopkins  to  make  a  turn- 
ing movement  and  now  you  tell  me  that  he  did  not 
do     it !      When     I     left     you     I     rode     to     McCann's 

and — "    his    voice    trailed    off    weakly "  I — think 

— my — horse — must — have — fallen.  What  has — taken 
place  ?  " 

100.  "  Can  you  walk  as  far  as  the  tent,  sir?  " 

101.  Ware  nodded  and,  with  his  elbow  in  the  grip  of 
his  Chief  of  Staff,  stumbled  heavily  into  the  big  tent, 
where  he  fairly  fell  into  the  chair  that  a  clerk  pulled 
forward  for  him.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  His  voice 
was  little  more  than  a  whisper  that  sounded  in  his  own 
ears  like  the  far-off  rush  of  heavy  seas. 

102.  "  I — left — you — and  went  to — McCann's.  I  left 
him  at  four-thirty  and — I  remember  riding  through — a 
piece — of  woods " 

103.  His  voice  sank  to  an  inarticulate  murmur.  The 
waiting  orderly  spoke. 

104.  "  Sir,  de  Gin'ral  done  had  a  turrible  fall.  His 
hawse  fell  ober  a  root  an'  when  I  come  along  behin'  him 
through  de  neck  o'  woods  by  Gin'ral  McCann's  place  I 
done  foun'  him  wid  de  hawse  piled  on  him  and  de  hawse 


and  a  skillful  introduction  and  management  of  the  materials  at 
this  stage  is  therefore  important.  They  must  be  kept  down  to 
the  fewest  possible,  but  so  handled  as  to  sustain  fully  the  sense 
of  dramatic  situation. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  313 

had  his  back  broke.  De  Gin'ral  looked  laik  he  was  some 
shook  up." 

105.  General  Ware  nodded  acquiescence. 

106.  "  He  brought  me  here,"  he  said  slowly. 

107.  "  The  map,  Coulter,  the  map !  " 

108.  Coulter  drew  the  table  nearer  and  traced  the  line 
of  the  fight  exactly  as  one  traces  the  lines  of  a  picture  for 
a  child. 

109.  "  It  was  here  that  you  placed  Atwood,  Gates,  and 
Holton  with  the  artillery  to  hold  them  in  check  on  the 
right."  His  finger  traced  the  blue  squares  of  the  divi- 
sions.    "  Here  is  Hopkins,  you  remember,  sir,  in  column 

of  route  to  the  left.     Here "  his  finger  hung  poised 

for  a  moment — "  was  the  gap  that  I  mentioned ;  the  gap 
in  our  line  that  I  feared  would  prove  the  heel  of  Achilles 
if  the  enemy  should  find  it " 

110.  Ware  nodded  silently. 

111.  " And  they  did  find  it  and  they  pushed  into 

it  with  all  their  force.  Then  Hopkins  swung  to  the  right 
and  Gates  and  Atwood  to  their  left  and  in  front " 

112.  "  Yes!  Yes!  In  front  we  had  nothing;  nothing, 
sir.     What  could  you  do  in  their  front  ?  " 

113.  "  In  front,  sir,  we  held  them  in  the  grip  of  fate 
with  these  four  divisions." 


109-112.  Par.  109  carries  us  back  to  par.  49  and  pars.  43-44. 
These  gave  us  the  necessary  comprehension  of  the  general  position 
of  our  armies.  But  they  did  not  give  us  so  clear  an  outline  that 
we  could  sketch  the  positions — they  did  not  need  to.  But  io 
the  explanation  now  to  come,  we  need  this  more  definite  outline. 
Note  how  adequately  it  is  given  in  the  brief  dialogue  of  pars. 
111-112. 

113.  Here  probably  begins  the  climactic  height  of  the  story ;  for 
by  this  time  we  realize  that  the  big  point  in  the  whole  impor- 


314  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

114.  lie  raised  his  hand  from  the  map,  disclosing, 
squarely  in  the  gap,  deftly  hidden  among  the  well-wooded 
slopes  of  the  Spruce  Ridge,  four  oblong  blue  stamps  in- 
dicative of  four  full  divisions — forty  thousand  men. 

115.  "  These  are  exactly  where  you  placed  them  last 
night,  sir,  after  I  left  you  and  went  to  my  tent " 

116.  "I  never  placed  those  men  there!  " 

117.  General  Ware  sprang  from  his  seat,  reeled,  and 
tottered  against  the  flimsy  table. 

118.  "I  never  placed  them  there.  Coulter." 

119.  Politely  incredulous.  Coulter  stared  at  him. 

120.  "  Of  course  you  did,  sir.  You  forget.  Your  ac- 
cident has  doubtless  confused  you.  Who  else  could  have 
done  it  ?  I  would  never  have  done  it  without  your  ap- 
proval. Who  else  could  possibly  have  placed  those  divi- 
sions so  accurately  in  the  one  place  where  they  were  so 
vitally  important  ?  " 

121.  "  Count  your  troops,"  said  Ware  hoarsely.  "  Check 
over  the  number  of  your  divisions  that  you  have  stamped 
on  the  map." 

122.  "  I  have  done  so,  sir.  The  list  is  correct.  You 
see,  when  I  returned  to  this  tent  after  your  departure,  I 
saw  those  stamp-marks  on  the  map.  Of  course,  I  thought 
that  you  had  done  it  at  the  last  moment  and  that  you  were 
leaving  the  details  for  me  to  work  out  after  you  had  left, 


tant  situation  is,  how  was  victory  instead  of  defeat  secured  to 
the  American  armies? — In  the  pars,  that  follow,  note  how  our 
interest  (curiosity)  is  constantly  pricked  in  the  midst  of  retarded 
movement;  see  on  accelerated  and  retarded  movement,  Genung, 
Prac.  Els.  of  Rhetoric  or  Working  Prins.  of  Rhet.  Note  that  in 
dramatic  forms  of  writing,  the  development  of  an  incident  by 
means  of  retarded  movement  involves  also  the  building  up  of 
a  climax. 


His  Bubble  Reputation  315 

so  I  took  two  divisions  from  Hopkins  and  two  from  the 
right  flank  and  put  them  in  as  was  indicated  on  the  map, 
where  I  thought  you  wanted  them — in  the  gap,  hidden  in 
the  woods." 

123.  "  Printz's  dossier  was  all  wrong,"  said  Ware,  still 
dwelling  insistently  on  what  seemed  the  important  point. 
"  He  thought  I  dared  not  take  a  chance.  I  did  not  do  this 
though.  Coulter.  I'd  give  my  new-made  reputation  to 
know  who  did  it.  Why,  man,  it  is  genius.  No  less !  I 
cannot  imagine  how  those  divisions  came  there.  I  never 
did  it.     Give  me  the  stamp  and  the  ink-pad." 

124.  Coulter  opened  the  stamp-box  and  sought  the 
oblong  rubber  stamp  that  General  Ware  had  used.  It  was 
gone.  He  looked  under  the  table,  on  the  cot,  on  the  grass, 
but  found  nothing.  Toto,  disturbed  in  his  warm  blankets 
by  the  raised  voices,  raved  and  chattered  and  sprang  to 
Coulter's  shoulder,  grasping  his  neck  with  one  little  paw 
while  he  picked  and  pulled  with  the  other  at  the  collar  of 
the  coat. 


124-127.  Re-enter  Toto,  the  deus  ex  machina,  or  more  properly, 
the  deciding  actor  in  the  plot.  Consider  the  finely  considered 
motivation  represented  by  the  monkey  as  an  actor — the  fondness 
of  soldiers  in  the  field  or  camp  for  animal  pets,  and  the  extremely 
imitative  nature  of  monkeys — unobtrusively  brought  to  our  atten- 
tion (if  we  are  given  to  thinking)  by  the  fact  that  Toto  "  stamped 
viciously  with  it  upon  the  very  spot  from  which  Ware  raised  his 
hand "  after  making  just  such  a  movement  himself.  We  now 
remember  Toto's  restlessness,  the  two  instances  on  the  preceding 
night  when  he  saw  his  master  and  the  spy  going  through  this 
stamping  motion  (he  had  seen  Ware  do  it  often,  no  doubt),  the 
spy's  impatient  flinging  of  the  stamp  at  him  before  slipping  out 
of  the  tent.  All  these  things,  in  view  of  monkey  nature,  make 
his  imitation  of  them  the  most  natural  of  behavior.     All  this  is 


316  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

125.  General  Ware  sat  back. 

126.  "  Throw  that  beast  out,  Coulter.  This  is  serious. 
Throw  it  out,  I  say !  " 

127.  He  slammed  his  heavy  fist  down  upon  the  table. 
As  if  at  a  signal,  Toto  sprang  from  Coulter's  shoulder, 
leaped  across  the  board,  seized  something  from  his  mouth 
and  stamped  viciously  with  it  upon  the  very  spot  from 
which  Ware  had  raised  his  hand.  Coulter  grasped  him, 
pried  open  the  grinning  jaws  and  pulled  from  him — the 
missing  division  stamp ! 

128.  A  long  silence  fell. 

129.  "It  isn't  humanly  possible,"  said  Ware 
hoarsely.  Coulter,  purple  in  the  face,  answered  noth- 
ing. 

130.  "  It  isn't  possible.  Coulter !  Say  something,  man  ! 
What  do  you  think  ?  " 

131.  "  God  knows,  Who  knows  all  things.  We  do 
know  that  Printz  was  wrong " 

132.  "  Printz  was  wrong.     And  so  was  I  wrong." 

133.  There  was  a  long  pause.     Ware  broke  it. 

134.  "  It  is  true !  "  he  shouted.  "  It  is  as  true  as 
Gospel,  Coulter.  That  is  how  those  divisions  came  to  be 
placed  in  the  gap !  That — I  came  near  saying  that  con- 
founded monkey.  Coulter !    But  he  has  saved  the  country 


therefore  rendered  extremely  plausible,  for  we  know  that  mon- 
keys thus  imitate  men  continually.  Mere  accident,  therefore,  in 
this  element  of  chance  already  noted  (n.  on  par.  41),  is  confined 
to  the  fact  that  Toto  happened  to  set  his  stamp  just  where  he 
did  on  the  map.  Pars.  128-131  recognize  the  weakness  of  the 
plot  in  thus  employing  accident,  but  pars.  131-134  accept  it  and 
through  the  convincingness  of  thoroughly  natural  dialogue  make 
it  seem  plausible  to  us.  (On  accident  in  motivation,  S.  S.  M., 
86  ff.). 


His  Bubble  Keputation  317 

this  day !  Doesn't  that  show  that  the  age  of  miracles  is 
not  yet  past  ?  " 

135.  "  Either  that,  sir,  or "     Coulter  paused  and 

glanced  quizzically  at  his  Chief — "  or  else  we  have  won 
as  we  have  won  before  in  times  past;  by  the  imitative  of 
a  monkey." 

136.  General  Ware  smiled  wearily. 

137.  "  It  really  doesn't  matter  how  or  why  or  by  what 
means  we  won.  We  did  win  and  it  is  that  that  counts. 
Wire  Acton  to  keep  them  on  the  run  as  long  as  they  keep 
three  men  together." 

138.  He  laid  his  head  wearily  upon  his  arms  as 
Coulter  slowly  dictated  the  message  to  a  clerk,  meanwhile 
absent-mindedly  stroking  Toto,  who,  undisturbed  by  the 
excitement,  chewed  away  upon  the  rubber  stamp. 


135,  Relaxes  our  tension  by  its  introduction,  along  with  the 
serious  thought,  of  a  touch  of  humor  through  the  pun — such 
wabbly  humor,  by  the  way,  as  men  just  shaken  by  a  teri'ifie  expe- 
rience are  likely  to  perpetrate  on  the  rebound. — Observe  the 
prompt  closing  when  the  explanation  has  been  completed.  Espe- 
cially note  that  the  closing  words  keep  before  us  Toto,  the  deciding 
actor  in  the  events  of  the  story,  and  the  representative — by  both 
the  author's  choice  and  his  own  nature — of  that  element  of  chance 
which  it  is  the  story's  purpose  to  impress  upon  us. 


AN  EPILOGUE 
The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  An  Epilogue  "  is  notable  for  (a)  having  as  its  cen- 
tral person  one  who  has  been  dead  ten  years;  (b)  ef- 
fectively characterizing  this  person  through  dialogue  on 
the  part  of  others,  and  that  (moreover)  with  slight  ref- 
erence to  actual  deeds  or  behavior  on  the  part  of  this  cen- 
tral person;  (c)  effectively  individualizing  and  charac- 
terizing an  unusually  large  number  of  contributing  per- 
sons; (d)  accomplishing  (as  a  secondary  result)  social 
characterization  of  a  family  and  the  particular  society  en- 
vironment of  this  family  (which  is  also  a  type)  ;  (e)  mak- 
ing us  realize  the  tragic  pathos  attending  the  entire  life 
of  the  central  person,  misunderstood  by  most  and  incom- 
pletely understood  even  by  the  few  who  were  sjonpa- 
thetically  and  kindly  disposed;  (f)  thus  arousing  in  us 
a  sense  of  the  tragic  pathos  of  life  itself;  (g)  a  remark- 
able command  of  unusual  and  difficult  materials,  as  evi- 
denced in  the  method  of  presentation  chosen  and  its 
thorough  success  ;  (h)  an  unirapassioned  simplicity  of  nar- 
rative presentation,  free  of  straining  for  effect,  that 
trusts  the  facts  themselves  to  make  their  impression  (cf. 
S.  S.  M.,  190:3,  195:11).  Other  matters  of  note  may 
be  found  in  the  running  comment.  The  impression  noted 
above  in  (e)  and  (f)  are  the  object  of  the  narrative,  and 
the  final  integration  of  the  materials  produces  an  atmos- 
phere-character story. 

2.  The  spiritual  atmosphere  is  created  by  the  many 
revelations   of   inner   character   given   by   the   numerous 

318 


An  Epilogue  319 

flashes  of  characterization  as  the  various  persons  play  their 
part  in  the  action. 

3.  The  framework  of  plot  is  slight.  The  generating 
circumstance  is  the  failure  of  the  literary  lioness  to  per- 
form conversationally,  thus  producing  the  emergency  ques- 
tion of  the  managing  daughter  to  the  temperamental  musi- 
cian, and  his  reference  to  the  wonderful  voice  of  the  young 
girl  who  (he  naturally  supposes)  will  be  a  subject  of  inter- 
est among  her  own  household.  The  action  from  this  point 
on  is  almost  wholly  dialogue,  in  which  person  after  per- 
son, expressing  his  estimate  of  the  dead  girl,  reveals  his 
blindness  to  her  genius  and  true  character;  the  action 
grows  spirited  as  the  difference  in  point  of  view  and  dis- 
position between  the  speakers  develops,  and  it  rises  to  its 
height  in  the  family  scene  at  the  close,  when  the  speeches 
and  behavior  of  the  members  of  the  family  remove  any 
doubt  remaining  in  our  mind  of  the  truth  of  the  musi- 
cian's assertions  and  the  tragedy  lying  beneath  the  facts. 
Exact  placing  of  the  decisive  moment  in  such  an  action  is 
difficult,  but  it  comes  in  this  final  scene,  and  near  the  end 
of  it ;  for  the  problem  in  the  formal  plot  is,  whether  Mary- 
Dora  was  or  was  not  a  pitiful  tragic  spirit  isolated  in  a 
dull,  unsympathetic  world,  and  the  struggle  is  that  of  our 
mind  to  reach  conviction  on  this  point.  As  complete  con- 
viction is  reached  only  when  the  behavior  of  the  family 
itself  shows  what  is  the  truth,  the  decisive  moment  comes 
then.  We  note  that  it  comes  effectively  at  the  end  of  the 
narrative  (S.  S.  M.,  93  :  2-5,  117 :  4). 

4.  See  S.  S.  M.,  24:  1-2.  This  story  is  one  of  those  in 
which  the  action-plot  is  of  small  importance  in  itself, 
existing  merely  to  afford  a  framework — that  is,  to 
"  carry  " — the  other  elements.     What  is  meant  when  we 


320  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

thus  speak  of  the  plot  as  existing  merely  to  carry  the  ef- 
fective materials  of  the  story  will  be  more  fully  under- 
stood if  we  consider  what  interests  us  in  the  present  nar- 
rative, and  what  ultimately  impresses  us.  This  is  not  the 
dinner  nor  (in  themselves)  the  people  attending  it,  but 
the  personality  of  the  dead  girl  and  the  contrasts  and  out- 
come of  the  position  in  life  which  fate  had  given  her. 
The  plot-action  of  the  narrative  is  nothing  but  a  device 
through  which  to  make  us  realize  the  basic  situation,  the 
moving  forces,  the  actors,  incidents,  and  outcome  of  a 
struggle,  crisis,  and  catastrophe  now  many  years  past — 
of  a  tragedy  not  directly  recounted,  but  shadowed  forth 
by  hint  and  inference,  and  left  for  complete  reconstruc- 
tion to  our  own  intelligence  and  imagination.  Cf.  direct 
plots  such  as  those  of  "  In  the  Matter  of  Distance."  "  The 
Love  of  Men,"  ''  A  Rag-Time  Lady,"  etc.  In  these,  the 
incidents  and  action  of  the  plot  themselves  embody  and 
are  the  narrator's  drama.  In  the  one  case,  the  incidents 
and  action  of  the  plot  themselves  tell  and  are  the  story; 
in  the  other,  they  merely  suggest  it. — Those  who  wish  to 
reflect  more  extensively  on  the  philosophy  of  art  can  con- 
sider here  the  general  question,  whether  stories  of  the  one 
type  or  stories  of  the  other  are  more  likely  to  "  reach  " — 
i.e.,  interest,  be  understood  by  and  appeal  to — the  ordinary 
reader.  Are  a  more  highly  developed  understanding,  sen- 
sibility, intellectual  keenness,  and  artistic  sympathy  neces- 
sary in  order  to  read  with  appreciation  work  that  is  indi- 
rectly suggestive,  and  only  that,  of  its  vital  matter  ?  Which 
type  of  presentation  is  better  adapted  to  the  active  mind, 
and  which  to  the  reflective  mind?  Which  demands  the 
more  leisure  and  contemplation  for  its  appreciation  ?  If, 
however,  on  considering  this,  one  decides  that  there  are 


An  Epilogue  321 

methods  of  artistic  presentation  suited  primarily  to  read- 
ers of  an  unusually  delicate  perceptive  sense,  or  of  a  par- 
ticular or  specialized  education  or  culture,  he  is  still  faced 
with  other  important  questions.  Is  there  any  essential 
superiority  in  the  art-products  of  the  more  recondite  and 
esoteric  method?  Are  the  impressions  they  make  as  im- 
mediately strong  as  those  made  by  products  of  the  direct 
method,  or  do  they  owe  their  strength  to  the  reflection 
they  require  ?  Are  these  impressions  as  effectual  ethically 
— as  likely  to  transform  themselves  into  convictions  and 
exercise  an  influence  on  the  reader's  conduct  of  life  ?  Are 
they  as  closely  and  as  intimately  associated  with  life  as 
it  is,  as  unmistakably  and  stimulatively  animated  with 
vital  human  spirit?  Is  not  their  ultimate  effect  that  of 
drawing  off  our  thought  to  refinements  and  subtleties,  at 
the  expense  of  sympathy  with  and  appreciation  of  life  in 
its  permanent,  rugged — and  sometimes  brutal — essentials  ? 
Does  not  the  translation  of  art  into  the  realm  of  subtlety 
and  extreme  refinement  expose  it  to  great  danger  of  becom- 
ing sophisticated,  artificial,  emasculate,  and  impotent? 
May  it  not  be  true  that  the  gradual  decline  in  importance 
of  once-powerful  magazines  is  traceable  (in  part  at  least, 
or  in  some  instances)  to  a  spiritual  enervation  resulting 
from  the  absence  in  their  fiction  of  the  cruder  and  more 
substantial  elements  such  as  those  that  keep  blood  red  and 
mankind  healthy,  strong,  energetic,  and  aggressive  in 
"  real  life  ?  "  Though  ability  to  understand  and  appre- 
ciate a  subtle,  and  even  a  "  brahmanistic,"  interpretation 
of  life  may  be  gratifying,  is  not  ability  to  touch  and  enter 
life  directly  through  less  subtle  and  more  bold,  or  even 
bald,  presentations  more  satisfying  to  the  individual  and 
more  wholesome   for  society  ?     See   S.  S,  M.,   65  :  16-20. 


322  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

(The  student  is  requested  not  to  misapply  these  questions 
by  taking  them  as  a  comment  upon  the  story  before  us. 
Without  great  labor  one  can  find,  in  the  elite  no  less  than 
in  the  hoi  polloi  of  our  magazines,  stories  that  are  mere 
piddling,  mere  artistic  balderdash,  mere  piffling  devotion 
to  "  pure  artistic  form  "  and  the  proprieties  of  a  papa- 
potatoes-poultry-prunes-and-prisms  standard  of  life — tales, 
full  of  smooth  sound  and  subtlety,  signifying  nothing — 
mere  Gratiano  converse  in  fiction  guise.  But  "  An  Epi- 
logue "  is  not  one  of  them,  though  the  artistry  of  it  is  as 
their  artistry.) 

5.  See  S.  S.  M.,  80 :  4-7.  In  this  story,  not  only  the 
exposition  strictly  so  called,  but  indeed  all  the  materials, 
are  presented  mainly  by  the  distributive  and  cumulative- 
effect  plan.  In  development,  this  story  is  not  a  progres- 
sive march  from  a  beginning  point  to  an  end  (which  is  the 
commoner  form),  but  a  gradual  unfolding  of  the  facts 
until  they  become  completely  visible.  It  may  be  com- 
pared to  the  unfolding  of  a  bud  until  the  blossom  becomes 
revealed  in  its  entirety — including  the  blight  at  the  center. 
Insomuch  as  there  is  not,  in  the  usual  sense,  progressive 
advance  from  plot  incident  to  plot  incident,  but  merely 
this  gradual  unfolding  of  this  past  situation  as  a  whole, 
we  may  say  that  the  development  is  static  instead  of 
dynamic,  or  progressive.  This  is  the  result  of  employ- 
ing the  distributive  method  so  largely — or  contrari- 
wise, the  distributive  method  is  made  necessary  by  the 
static  development.  The  student  will  observe  that  the  in- 
troduction of  the  more  important  facts  under  this  method, 
although  appearing  casual  and  almost  chance,  is  neverthe- 
less calculated  and  managed  with  care,  essential  "  points  " 
being  prepared  for  before  they  are  made,  and  then  em- 


An  Epilogue  323 

phasized.  The  cumulative  effect  upon  the  reader  of  these 
successive  disclosures  and  impressions  is  the  means  by 
which  the  presentation  works  its  final,  total  effect.  It  will 
be  worth  while  to  go  through  the  story  several  times, 
studying  the  workings  of  this  method  as  it  is  employed 
in  (a)  characterization,  (b)  atmosphere  creation,  (c)  dis- 
closure of  the  long-past  basic  situation,  and  (d)  disclo- 
sure of  the  plot-elements  belonging  to  this  basic  situation. 
(Note :  There  is,  however,  progressive  action  in  the  carry- 
ing-plot, considered  merely  by  itself;  see  par.  220.) 


AN  EPILOGUE 
By  Gertrude  Hall 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from  "  The 

Century,"   June,    1!)15. 

(Copyright,  1915.) 

1.  And  then  a  good  many  years  after  the  story  was 
ended,  so  far  as  it  affected  the  little  heroine,  certain  of 
the  secondary  characters,  having  built  an  addition  to  their 
city  house,  decided  to  give  an  entertainment  that  would 
at  once  bring  into  use  the  new  music-room  and  afford  the 
public  an  opportunity  to  admire  it. 

2.  The  Rev.  Andrew  DeJames,  new  rector  of  Saint 
John's,  was  interested  in  a  children's  hospital.  Miss 
Adeline  Villars  was  interested  in  the  new  rector.  That 
gave,  perhaps,  the  starting-point  for  the  grand  affair  at 
the  Villarses.  But  JMrs.  Villars  and  Miss  Sally  Villars, 
when  they  readily  fell  in  with  the  idea,  had  in  eye  advan- 
tages to  themselves  as  well.  Sally,  the  smart  one,^  thought 
the  thing  out  and  organized  it. 


1.  A  profitable  beginning  to  study.  Note  (a)  indication  of  the 
time  of  the  story  and  the  time  of  the  telling;  (b)  characterizing 
force  of  "the  little  heroine";  (c)  pi-eparation  to  introduce  the 
secondary  persons  by  means  of  whom  the  facts  of  the  long-past 
history  must  be  got  before  us;  (d)  the  carefully  indicated  char- 
acterization of  the  most  significant  of  these  secondary  persons  in 
the  report  of  their  decision  and  its  motive  (they  have  risen  in 
the  world,  and  wish  to  make  display).  This  characterization  is 
swiftly  and  meaningly  amplified  in  par.  2. 

2.  '  A  detail  of  personal  differentiation.  The  phrase  is  common 
"with  folk  in   discussions  of  their  neighbors,   and   hence  it   has 

334 


An  Epilogue  325 

3.  The  music-room  would  seat  three  hundred.  What 
would  draw  so  many  people  at  five  dollars  a  head?  Who 
would  do  something  really  attractive  for  nothing  in  aid 
of  the  children's  hospital?  Sally  answered  the  question 
after  some  searching:  Mrs.  Julia  Gastonbury — the  philan- 
thropically  minded  Mrs.  Gastonbury,  whose  latest  book, 
"  Dead  Works,"  after  a  silence  of  years,  had  made  a  deep 
impression.  Would  anybody  not  cheerfully  pay  five  dol- 
lars to  hear  her  read  in  old  age  from  the  works  that  had 
thrilled  their  youth?  Had  anybody  a  soul  so  dead  he 
would  not  come  through  wind  and  rain  to  pay  tribute  to 
the  author  of  the  novel  that  had  drawn  the  young  tears 
from  their  eyes,  "  Simple  Margaret  ?  "  And  "  The  Cot- 
tagers of  Hebron  Hill"  and  "Sylvia"  and  "A  Dear 
Enemy  "  and  "  Miss  Dove !  " 

4.  The  papers  announced  that  tickets  for  the  occasion 
could  be  obtained  at  the  parish-house  of  Saint  John's 
Church  or  at  Priestley's,  the  music-store. 

5.  It  was  from  the  newspaper  that  Miss  Cornelia 
Blodgett    learned   of   the    entertainment.      She    had    not 


power  to  connote  more  than  it  denotes ;  we  learn  through  it  about 
the  whole  family,  because  we  know  how  much  it  means  from 
hearmg  it  about  other  families.  It  especially  puts  the  "  smart " 
and  managing  Sally  before  us,  and  later  Sally  will  stand  in 
sharp  contrast  with  the  little  heroine. 

3.  The  author  here  begins  to  motive  the  carrying  action  (introd. 
n.  4).  Mrs.  Gastonbury  is  the  lioness  whose  failure  to  roar 
precipitates  the  disclosure  of  the  heroine's  life  with  these  people. 
At  the  same  time,  the  details  are  made  to  contribute  characteriza- 
tion of  the  Villarses,  and  to  have  something  of  the  effect  besides 
of  a  passing  incident  of  social  characterization.  Note  underlying 
the  details  the  continued  presentation  of  Sally. 

4-5.  These  motive  the  attendance  of  Miss  Blodgett,  who  turns 
out  to  be  an  important  secondary  person.  As  in  the  other  instances 
so  far  noted,  the  introduction  of  the  person  is  accompanied  with 


326  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

changed  iiiiich  in  the  ten  years.  She  was  faded  and  lined, 
bnt  her  yonthfnlness  of  ontlook  she  wonld  retain  while 
she  had  eyes  to  look  out  of.  She  was  in  town  on  a  visit 
to  her  old  friend,  ]\Irs.  Jane  Banks.  Cornelia  had  been 
thinking  she  must  make  Jane  a  present  before  parting  to 
express  appreciation  of  her  hospitality.  It  seemed  to  her 
now  that  to  take  her  to  hear  Mrs.  Gastonbury  would  meet 
that  delicate  obligation  better  than  the  gift  of  a  fleecy 
cardigan  jacket,  while,  for  her  own  part,  the  thought  of 
seeing  the  inside  of  the  Villars  mansion  thrilled  her.  She 
spent  her  ten  dollars,  which  looked  almost  as  big  to  her 
as  the  whole  amount  that  the  reading  was  purposed  to 
raise.  Miss  Cornelia  had  in  her  nature  something  of  the 
poet. 

6.  During  the  two  weeks  intervening,  Jane  and  she 
re-read  "  Simple  Margaret,"  and  made  themselves  ac- 
quainted with  "  Dead  Works." 

7.  They  had  understood  from  a  hint  given  in  fine  en- 


characterization.  Observe  the  method :  indication  of  her  way 
of  regarding  and  preparing  for  the  entertainment.  Given  also 
a  sufficient  knowledge  of  village  society,  we  can,  through  these 
details,  realize  her  for  ourselves  as  poor,  proper,  polite,  good- 
hearted,  and  a  member  of  the  staid  democracy  of  some  village. 
Mrs.  Banks  represents  the  corresponding  rank  of  city  dwellers, 
and  they  two  are  opposed  to  the  Villarses  and  the  Villarses'  com- 
pany of  guests  (4-14  and  in  part  farther).  Our  attention  is  kept 
on  Miss  Blodgett  (and  incidentally,  Mrs.  Banks).  One  reason 
is,  that  they  represent  something  of  the  earlier  social  status  of 
the  Villarses,  and  the  present  and  past  contrast,  aided  by  their 
comment,  aids  us  in  understanding  the  Villarses  as  they  are,  and 
estimating  them  in  perspective  with  their  past.  Further,  Miss 
Blodgett  and  Mrs.  Banks  are  contrast-foils  for  the  guests  as  well 
as  for  the  Villarses.  Another  reason  is,  that  the  permanent 
point  of  view  and  the  character  of  Miss  Blodgett  must  be  felt 
by  us,  because  we  are  going  to  see  and  hear  a  good  deal  of  the 


An  Epilogue  327 

graving  at  the  bottom  of  their  cards  that  they  must  array 
themselves  in  their  best.  Mrs.  Banks,  having  sleeked  her 
hair  till  it  shone  like  bands  of  silver  satin,  put  on  a  black 
stuff  of  the  most  decent,  clasping  her  collar  with  a  cameo 
of  great  size,  carved  to  represent  a  landscape,  with  house 
and  tree  against  a  dun-colored  sky.  To  the  gift  of  the 
ticket  Cornelia  had  added  the  pleasant  attention  of  a  pair 
of  gray  silk  gloves.  At  her  suggestion  Mrs.  Banks  fur- 
ther decorated  her  person  with  the  little  badge  of  a  Daugh- 
ter of  the  American  Revolution. 

8.  Cornelia's  elegance  was  of  a  more  light-minded  sort, 
as  her  appearance  was  also  lighter,  sprightlier  than  Jane's. 
She  wore  her  black  silk.  Her  collar  was  lace,  fastened 
with  a  brooch  of  which  she  was  justly  vain,  for  it  was 
wrought  of  three  colors,  the  greenish,  the  reddish,  and  the 
yellow  gold.  She  crimped  her  hair.  Over  her  shoulders 
she  laid,  triangularly  folded,  the  white  embroidered  India 
shawl,  with  swinging  silk  fringes,  gift  long  ago  of  sea- 
captain  Nathan  Blodgett,  her  father.  Over  her  knuckles 
she  drew  the  white  kid  gloves  which  she  knew  to  be  the 
proper  evening  wear. 


succeeding  events  through  Miss  Blodgett's  eyes  and  ears;  the 
author  virtually  makes  her  our  agent  to  attend  the  dinner  and, 
from  an  observer's  position,  listen  for  us  as  the  main  facts  of 
the  past  gradually  discover  themselves.  (N.B.  An  interesting 
variation  of  the  angle  of  narration  is  here  employed ;  the  nar- 
rative is  told  as  by  a  third  person,  completely  outside  the  events, 
yet  we  are  made  to  feel  it  a  good  deal  from  the  point  of  view  of 
participants.  See  S.  S.  M.,  138  :  3  and  143  :  13.)— Incidentally, 
various  details  mentioned  by  the  author,  or  for  her  by  Miss 
Blodgett,  help  to  particularize  and  establish  our  realization  of 
the  Villarses  in  their  present  prosperous  and  climbing  existence, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  afford  setting  and  atmosphere  material. 
The  management  is  exceedingly  skillful. 


328  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

9.  The  house  could  be  told  from  a  distance  as  the  scat 
of  some  festivity.  All  its  lower  windows  shone  through 
their  lace  shades,  an  awning  sheltered  its  steps,  a  crimson 
carpet  extended  from  its  threshold  to  the  edge  of  the  side- 
walk, where  vehicles  were  stopping. 

10.  The  clear  March  night  was  cold,  but  a  fever  of 
expectation  warmed  Miss  Cornelia  through  and  through. 
Her  eyes,  when  they  entered  the  door,  were  widened  to 
take  in  everything,  till  they  were  starry  in  their  luminous 
stare.  With  the  outside  of  the  Villars  house  she  was  fa- 
miliar, and  with  such  scraps  of  the  interior  as  could  be 
seen  by  a  passer  in  the  street.  When  with  a  small  group 
of  others  they  came  within  the  enchanted  portals,  her  ex- 
citement overflowed  in  whispers  to  Jane. 

11.  "  Look !  There,  Jane  !  Look !  That  must  be  the 
copy  of  the  Paul  Veronese  she  ^  told  me  was  bought  abroad, 
and  that  she  said  hung  in  the  hall." 

12.  At  sight  of  the  great  green-and-white  drawing-room, 
which  had  many  laurel  wreaths  worked  into  its  decora- 
tion, she  clutched  Jane's  arm,  radiant. 

13.  "  This  is  the  room  that's  all  First  Empire — the 
Emperor  Kapoleon's  time,  you  know,  Jane.  Some  of  the 
pieces  of  furniture,  she  told  me,  belonged  in  his  own  pal- 
ace at  Paris,  and  some  of  the  china  in  the  cabinets  was 
his  wife  Josephine's. 


11.  '  The  first  direct  reference,  outside  of  par.  1,  to  the  past 
situation  on  which  the  story  turns.  The  approach  to  this  situation 
is,  in  the  present  story,  made  very  leisurely.  A  second  reference 
("in  her  day")  occurs  in  par,  14;  after  that  their  number  soon 
centers  our  expectation  on  some  coming  disclosure.  This  leisurely 
movement  is,  however,  well  suited  to  all  the  story,  which  is  not 
one  of  rapid  action,  but  of  spiritual  revelation,  requiring  gradual 
apprehension  and  comprehension  by  the  reader. 


An  Epilogue  329 

14.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about  this,"  she  spoke, 
astonished,  as  they  entered  the  new  music-room,  the  brown 
baronial  hall,  fifty  feet  by  thirty,  now  full  of  folding- 
chairs placed  in  regular  lines  along  an  aisle  that  ended  at 
a  platform  with  a  chair  on  it,  a  table,  a  vase  of  white  roses, 
and  a  glass  of  water.  "  I  guess  this  wasn't  here  in  her 
day,  Jane.  Isn't  it  grand !  How  is  it  lighted — so  bright 
and  yet  so  soft  ?  I  guess  there's  electricity  all  along  behind 
that  molding." 

15.  They  took  seats,  modestly,  not  too  far  forward, 
though  they  had  come  early,  and  while  the  hall  was  filling, 
Cornelia  chattered.  "  There's  a  Dutch  room  up-stairs,  and 
a  Japanese  room  where  they  take  tea  every  afternoon.  In 
the  dining-room  they've  got  a  portrait  of  George  Wash- 
ington that  they  say  he  sat  for  himself.  There  was  no 
end  to  the  things  she  had  to  tell  us  about  it  all  after  she 
came  home.  AYish  I  knew  where  to  look  for  her  step- 
mother and  for  Miss  Adeline  and  Miss  Sally  that  she 
talked  so  much  about.  But  I  don't  suppose  I  could  tell 
them  if  I  saw  them.  Mr.  Peter  Yillars  I  should  know, 
naturally.  Perhaps  we  can  find  him  afterwards,  before 
we  go." 

16.  Shortly  she  forgot  all  that.  Mrs.  Gastonbury  read 
the  most  characteristic  and  touching  chapters  from  "  Sim- 
ple Margaret,"  the  part  where  simple  Margaret  goes  to  the 
unknown  city  to  try  to  save  her  son  from  evil  compan- 
ions ;  then  the  most  humorous  portions  from  "  The  Cot- 
tagers of  Hebron  Hill,"  the  petty  quarrels  of  the  married 
women;  finally  the  most  solemn  and  searching  passages 
from  "  Dead  Works,"  the  passages  that  forced  you  to  turn 
your  gaze  inward  and  reflect.  Miss  Cornelia  furtively 
dried  her  eyes.     The  sense  of  her  faults  and  failures  was 


330  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

not  stronger  than  the  sense  aroused  by  the  reader's  words 
of  her  own  neglected  and  buried  goodness.  In  the  emo- 
tion of  that  state  she  saw  pathetically  for  a  moment  the 
one  who  had  told  her  so  much  about  this  house  and  its 
owners,  and  whose  image  had  been  floating  in  her  memory 
ever  since  she  approached  its  door. 

17.  She  brought  back  her  attention  sharply  to  the  read- 
ing. The  extravagance  of  wasting  one  syllable  of  the 
costly  treat !  But  with  the  recovery  of  the  point  of  view 
from  lofty  peaks  consequent  upon  listening  to  Mrs.  Gas- 
tonbury,  Cornelia's  mind  diverged  once  more,  and  turned 
to  consider  the  aspect  of  things  by  the  new  spiritual  light 
vouchsafed  her.  All  the  material  splendor  around  her,  in 
which  she  honestly  delighted,  was  it  right  to  love  it? 
Could  it  do  much,  after  all,  for  the  soul's  peace  and 
progress  ?  Was  the  master  of  this  house,  for  instance,  any 
happier  in  his  second  marriage  with  a  woman  of  great 
wealth  than  in  the  old  days  when,  young  and  poor  and 
hard-working, — but  so  cheerful  and  hopeful,  dear  Mr. 
Peter ! — he  and  his  young  wife  used  to  come  out  into  the 
country  on  a  Sunday  to  see  their  little  girl,  put  to  board 
with  plain,  old-fashioned  folks,  good  as  anybody,  but  hav- 
ing no  pretensions  to  style  or  tone — herself,  in  fact,  Cor- 
nelia, and  her  sister  Clementine  ? 

17-18.  See  S.  S.  M.,  32 :  16-22,  on  theme.  The  present  story 
well  iUustrates  the  text ;  it  presents  no  theme ;  yet  upon  considera- 
tion we  can  without  difficulty  formulate  a  conclusion  about  life 
that  will  sum  up,  on  the  intellectual  side,  the  meaning  of  the  situa- 
tion it  pi'esents.  In  pars.  17-18  we  have  directly  propounded 
a  sub-theme,  or  incidental  comment  on  life.  (The  question  pro- 
pounded will  be  found  answered  in  the  paragraphs  presenting 
Mr.  Peter  Villars;  this  showing  the  ability  of  the  short  story 
to  incorporate  materials  that  subordinately  and  incidentally  are 
motivated  by  purpose.     S.  S.  M.,  27:4-13,  especially  12  and  13.) 


An  Epilogue  331 

18.  Any  happier  ?  Was  he  as  happy  ?  It  was  grand, 
no  two  ways  about  it,  for  him  to  be  so  rich  as  he  had  be- 
come; but 

19.  Cornelia  held  in,  to  remind  herself  that  one  should 
be  slow  to  judge  one's  neighbor,  then  went  boldly  ahead : 
But  if  the  second  Mrs.  Villars  had  been  quite  the  right 
sort  of  woman,  the  woman  to  make  a  good  man  happy, 
wouldn't  she  have  wanted  to  take  her  husband's  child  to 
live  with  them,  and  have  tried  to  be  a  mother  to  her  ?  In- 
stead of  which 

20.  Cornelia  was  startled  by  a  noise.  What?  It  was 
all  over  ?  N"©,  thank  the  stars !  There  was  going  to  be 
an  encore. 

21.  To  the  prolonged  applause  Mrs.  Gastonbury  re- 
sponded by  adding  to  the  program  a  sonnet.  As  this  was 
abtruse  and  difficult  to  grasp,  the  public  was  satisfied  to 
ask  no  more.  Mrs.  Gastonbury  stepped  off  her  platform 
and  was  surrounded. 

22.  Everybody  rose.  A  buzz  of  talk  succeeded  the  re- 
spectful hush. 

23.  The  general  movement  was  toward  the  door. 

24.  "  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  going,"  said  Cornelia, 
regretfully ;  "  but  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  go  without 
saying  a  word  to  Mr.  Peter  Villars.     And  I  would  dearly 


19,  An  instance  of  the  introduction  by  the  distributive  method 
of  essential  expository  and  plot  detail  belonging  to  the  basic  situa- 
tion (cf.  introd.  n.  5). 

24.  Here  and  throughout  observe  the  naturalness  and  indi- 
viduality of  the  speeches.  Observe  their  adaptedness  to  the  persons 
making  them  (i.e.,  characterizing  effectiveness).  The  dialogue  of 
Sally  and  of  Olivieri,  with  that  of  Miss  Blodgett,  is  particularly 
worth  study,  although  the  speeches  of  all  the  persons  have  care- 
fully been  made  significant. 


332  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

love  to  shako  hands  with  ^frs.  Gastonbury,  wouldn't  you, 
Jane?  And  tell  her  how  much  we  think  of  her  books. 
But  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  go  without.  I  don't  seem 
to  see  him  anywheres — Jane,  there  he  is !  That's  him ! 
Mr.  Villars!  Mr.  Villars!"  She  waved  her  program  a 
little  madly. 

25.  He  was  at  her  side  at  once,  with,  for  the  fraction 
of  a  minute,  an  inquiring,  an  unacquainted  look.  Then, 
"  Why,  Miss  Cornelia !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  grasped  both 
her  hands.  She  was  almost  jumping  up  and  down  with 
delight. 

26.  "  Yes,  it's  me,  Mr.  Villars.  And  this  is  my  friend 
Mrs.  Banks." 

27.  "  Mrs.  Banks.  And  if  this  isn't  Miss  Cornelia 
Blodgett !  Miss  Cornelia,  there's  no  one  in  the  world  I 
could  be  so  glad  to  see.  And  when  did  you  come  to  town  ? 
And  where  are  you  staying?  And  how  is  Miss  Clemen- 
tine, dear  Miss  Clementine  ?  " 

28.  "  Sister's  all  right,  or  I  shouldn't  be  here. 
Won't  she  be  interested  when  I  tell  her  I've  seen 
you !  " 

29.  "  And  how's  the  museum  ?     And  how's  Bos'on  ?  " 

30.  "  You're  thinking  of  too  long  ago,  Mr.  Villars. 
Bos'on  was  already  an  old  dog  last  time  you  were  at  Wil- 
low Creek,  and  that's  a  full  ten  years." 

31.  A  look  of  trouble  came  over  Villars'  face,  and  was 


27.  Just  what  is  it  in  this  first  speech  from  Mr.  Villars  that 
makes  us  feel  a  little  uncertain  about  him?  Is  it  a  shade  too 
voluble  (of  its  sincerity  there  is,  I  think,  no  doubt)  ?  What  if  any- 
thing is  later  disclosed  about  him  and  his  habits  that  might 
account  for  his  greeting  being  slightly  off  tone?  Cf.  (with  others) 
pars.  35,  204,  220-221. 

30.    Another  casual  disclosure  of  informing  detail. 


An  Epilogue  333 

reflected  by  ]\liss  Cornelia's,  mixed  in  this  sensitive  mirror 
with  a  yearning  sympathy,  and  shame  at  her  tactlessness. 
There  was  a  silence,  lasting  only  a  few  seconds,  before  Vil- 
lars  made  it  obvious  by  his  gesture  that  he  refused  to  think 
of  the  past. 

32.  "  How  have  you  enjoyed  the  evening  ?  "  he  asked 
heartily. 

33.  "Words  fail  me,   Mr.   Villars.      Jane,   too.      We 

think  Mrs.  Gastonbury  is  the  greatest — the  grandest 

We're  proud  to  be  here.  We  shall  go  home  and  talk  about 
it  and  talk  about  it.  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  starting 
now.     Most  everybody's  gone." 

34.  "  Oh,  but  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  go.  Don't  sup- 
pose it.    Why,  I've  only  just  found  you. 

East  and  west, 
Old  friends  are  best ! 

I  want  you  to  see  my  son;  he's  on  from  college  for  the 
occasion.  Perhaps  you'll  enjoy  what's  coming.  A  few 
of  the  audience  are  asked  to  stay  after  the  others  and  have 
supper  with  the  celebrity.  I  want  you  to  stay  and  be  my 
special  part  of  the  treat.  Don't  say  a  word.  Miss  Cor- 
nelia ;  you've  got  to  please  me  in  this.  Wait  a  minute. 
I'm  going  to  find  John  and  bring  him  up  to  meet  you." 

35.  "  He's  just  the  same  as  he  used  to  be,"  said  Miss 
Cornelia,  openly  affectionate,  as  he  departed,  with  a  cer- 
tain care  in  his  speed,  over  the  slippery  floor.  And  so 
he  was,  in  a  way.  If  an  image  representing  Eternal 
Youth  should  be  exposed  to  the  vicissitudes  of  time  and 

31.  A  hint,  obscure  but  stimulatins:,  of  something:  interesting 
to  come  as  the  story  develops.  Fore-hints  are  useful  in  maintain- 
ing and  creating  suspense. 

35.    Study  the  effective  placing  of  this  passage  of  description. — 


334  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

\veathoT,  and  become  a  little  battered  with  wear,  have  its 
hair  blanch,  its  skin  loosen,  its  nose  redden,  its  form  swell, 
and  its  beard  grow,  it  might  be  suggestive  of  Mr.  Peter 
Villars,  aged  fifty-two,  as  Miss  Cornelia  saw  him  that 
evening.  lie  wore  his  hair  like  an  artist,^  a  bang  parted 
in  the  middle,  a  beard  cut  to  a  point,  though  for  many 
years  now  ho  had  been  a  merchant. 

36.  '^  Should  you  like  to  stay,  Jane  ?  I  think  it  would 
be  real  nice,"  said  Miss  Cornelia,  suppressing  her  joy  as 
much  as  she  could,  so  as  not  too  palpably  to  influence  her 
friend's  answer. 

37.  ''  I'm  willing  to  stay,"  said  Jane.  Jane  Banks  did 
not  cheapen  herself  by  saying  she  did  not  think  her  ap- 
parel sufficiently  fine  for  the  occasion.  It  was  her  best. 
In  her  placid  and  pleasant  face,  the  set  of  her  jaw,  the 
lines  of  her  large,  good-tempered  mouth,  firmly  closed 
over  porcelain  teeth,  was  expressed  a  quiet  consciousness 
of  the  stock  she  came  from,  which  she  would  have  deemed 
it  treason  and  disgrace  to  think  inferior  to  anybody. 

38.  Peter  Villars  came,  bringing  along,  by  an  arm 
passed  fondly  through  his,  a  small  blond  youth,  whose 
chief  likeness  to  his  father  lay  in  an  immediate  effect  of 
accessibility. 

39.  "  Yes,  you  must  stay ;  we  won't  let  you  go,"  he 
supported  his  father's  invitation  to  the  ladies  as  soon  as 
he  had  been  presented. 


^  Apparently  a  mere  descriptive  fact,  but  later  found  to  be  sig- 
nificant (par.  220).  In  masterly  art,  much  of  the  fine  effective- 
ness of  the  completed  work  is  the  result  of  close  relationship  ulti- 
mately discovered  between  remote  and  seemingly  trivial  details. 
37.  We  must  keep  in  mind  that  Jane  and  Cornelia  are  contrast 
foils,  in  their  character  and  point  of  view,  for  the  other  two 
person-groups — the  Villarses  and  the  guests. 


An  Epilogue  335 

40.  "  We'll  take  care  of  you,"  Peter  met  protestations 
that  had  not  been  voiced  and  a  shyness  that  had  not  been 
expressed ;  "  John  and  I'll  take  care  of  you." 

41.  Each  offered  an  arm  to  one  of  the  ladies. 

42.  The  dining-room  seemed  at  first  glance,  while  so 
many  were  standing,  very  full  of  people;  full  of  colors 
and  white  shoulders  and  broadcloth  backs;  full  of  glitter 
and  chatter;  full,  as  Miss  Cornelia  suddenly  felt,  of 
estranging  afiluence  and  worldly  manner  and — differ- 
ence. 

43.  "  Listen,  Mr.  Villars,"  she  anxiously  whispered. 
"  Just  take  us  into  a  quiet  little  corner  where  we  can 
watch,  couldn't  you  ?  Jane  and  me  don't  want  to  be  part 
of  the  real  party.  We  shouldn't  know  what  to  do,  set 
down  in  the  midst  of  strangers.  What  we'd  love  would 
be  to  look  on  and  not  be  anyways  noticed." 

44.  "  I'm  afraid  that's  what  it  will  come  to.  The 
table  is  going  to  be  horribly  crowded.  Wait  a  minute. 
I'll  fix  it." 

45.  Threading  his  way  between  groups  of  his  guests, 
he  captured  two  chairs  and  set  them,  parting  for  this  pur- 
pose the. long  hangings,  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window  at 
one  side  of  the  darkly  looming  sideboard.  From  a  second 
foray  he  returned  with  a  featherweight  lacquer  table, 
which  he  placed  between  their  chairs.  "  There,  ladies, 
now  you'll  be  snug  as — ^you  know !  " 

46.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Villars,  you  must  tell  us  before  you 


42.  "  Full  of  estranging  affluence  and  worldly  manner  and — 
difference  " :  the  description  summarizes  the  qualities  of  the  things 
which  the  women  Villarses  prefer,  thus  indicating  the  spirit  of 
the  environment  which  Mary-Dora  fled  when  she  returned  to 
Willow  Creek  and  Nahum. 


330  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

leave  us  who  they  all  are,  for  I'm  sure  we're  in  wonderful 
company." 

47.  "We  are,  Miss  Cornelia,  we  are;  we  did  onr  best 
to  be.  You  see  that  portly  gentleman  with  the  red  face 
and  the  bunch  of  white  beard  under  his  chin  ?  It's  Judge 
Silloway,  whose  influence  has  got  some  famous  measure 
passed  which  doesn't  interest  you  or  me;  but  he's  in  the 
public  eye.  On  the  other  side  of  Mrs.  Gastonbury,  and 
looking  very  much  tonight  like  his  portrait  by  Sargent,  is 
Herbert  C.  Kinglake — Kinglake,  you  know,  who  has 
willed  his  celebrated  collection  to  our  museum.  Ilis 
daughter  is  here  with  him,  and  Lady  Sherson,  who  is 
visiting  them." 

48.  "Which  is  she?" 

49.  "  The  queer  one,  with,  saving  your  presence,  the 
bones  and  the  wreath  of  lilies.  A  painter,  as  you  can  see, 
her  specialty  is  life-sized  portraits  done  at  a  single  sitting. 
She's  talking  with  Edmund  Dix,  our  city's  guest  while 
he  decorates  the  new  court-room  walls." 

50.  "  I'm  sure  that  young  man  with  his  hair  on  his 
forehead,  like  yours,  Mr.  Villars,  does  something  rare. 
What  is  it?" 


47-56.  Mr.  Villars  reveals  himself  (elsewhere  other  details  re- 
veal further  facts  about  him).  He  has  become  "  a  little  lax  "  (par. 
54)  ;  drink  has  a  little  loosened  his  tongue,  and  he  voices  his 
unresistinc  contempt  for  himself  and  for  the  life  and  people  about 
him,  includins:  those  of  his  own  household,  to  his  old-fashioned 
friend.  His  comments  at  the  same  time  serve  the  author  as  a 
means  of  producing  in  the  reader  a  realizing  estimate  of  the  social 
and  character  values  involved  in  the  situation  she  is  unfolding. 
(See  S.  S.  M.,  229-236.)  Yet  again,  the  author  employs  this 
means  of  introducing  to  us  some  of  the  persons  whom  she  will  use 
later  as  instruments  in  furthering  her  presentation.  (All  this  illus- 
trates the  utility  of  dialogue.) 


An  Epilogue  337 

51.  "  You  have  before  you,  Miss  Cornelia,  a  composer. 
Sidney  Clifford-Crane  is  his  name,  '  Figurines  '  the  name 
of  his  latest  success.  One  more  musical  luminary  we  have 
this  evening,  Signor  Cesare  Olivieri,  an  importation,  as 
the  name  suggests,  organist  and  choir-master  at  the 
Church  of  the  Immaculate.  A  very  difficult  fellow  to  pro- 
duce at  a  function,  let  me  tell  you,  but  we  collared  him 
this  time.  Those  I  think  are  our  best  cards.  ISText  in 
order  comes  that  civilized  and  well-washed  being  who 
looks  like  a  professor.  He  is  one;  that  accounts  for  it. 
Professor  Morrison,  late  of  Dartmouth  College.  ISTear 
him,  with  the  brow.  Miss  Henrietta  Marsh,  head  of  our 
most  select  young  ladies'  finishing  school ;  lectures  some- 
times on  woman  questions." 

52.  "  Is  there  nobody  here  at  all,  Mr.  Villars,  that 
isn't  anybody  ?  "  asked  Miss  Cornelia,  in  a  happy  sigh. 

53.  "  Yes."  He  dropped  his  voice,  though  the  danger 
of  being  overheard  was  small.  "  You  see  that  solemnly 
good  and  handsome  man  ?  It's  the  Eev.  Andrew  DeJames, 
a  nonentity  every  bit  as  much  as  myself;  like  me,  an  ass, 
utter.  You  see  that  other  well-set-up  fellow  with  lots  of 
white  vest,  who  looks  like  a  silent  actor?  Never  tell;  a 
veterinarian,  swellest  horses  in  town  are  his  patients.  You 
present  him  as  Doctor  Cudworth;  who  need  know?  He's 
Sally's  last  chance;  but  she  can't  make  up  her  mind  to 
the  sound  of  the  thing.  Who  else  ?  Jack  Lancey  and  his 
wife,  over  there;  he  rich,  she  beautiful.  She  was  on  the 
stage  for  a  short  while,  with  the  excuse  of  a  living  to  earn. 
Face  like  a  confiding  peach." 

54.  Cornelia  gave  the  speaker  a  more  attentive  look, 
the  better  to  understand  his  mood.  He  seemed  to  be  mak- 
ing fun  of  his  guests.     It  was  just  his  boyish  way,  she 


338  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

excused  liim,  and  loyally  disallowed  a  vague  misliking  for 
it.  There  was  a  change  in  him,  after  all,  since  the  old 
days.  She  described  it,  "  As  if  everything  had  become  a 
little  lax." 

55.  "  I  will  whisper  it  in  your  ear,  dear  Miss  Cornelia, 
for  whom  I  have  a  simply  enormous  regard," — he  bent  his 
face,  enkindled  with  the  excitement  that  made  him  talka- 
tive,— "  I  ani  virtually  not  acquainted  with  the  crowd 
here  tonight,  l^or  is  my  wife,  nor  are  her  daughters. 
We  got  them  with  Mrs.  Gastonbury  for  bait.  Sally 
worked  it." 

56.  As  Peter  Villars  here  winked.  Miss  Cornelia 
laughed  in  merry  appreciation  of  his  joke. 

57.  "  One  minute,"  he  interrupted ;  "  my  wife  is  sig- 
naling to  me !  "  and  departed  from  her  side. 

58.  "  So  that's  his  second  wife !  "  Cornelia,  looking  at 
the  stout  figure  in  black  velvet  and  diamonds,  involun- 
tarily shook  her  head.  "  I  hadn't  supposed  she  was  so 
much  older  as  that." 

59.  She  readjusted  her  shawl,  smoothed  her  gloves  a 
little  nervously  in  the  expectation  that,  their  murmured 
conference  over,  Peter  would  bring  his  wife  to  make 
acquaintance  with  them.  But  this  did  not  happen,  and 
finding  ready  excuses  for  the  postponed  formality,  Cor- 
nelia returned  her  undivided  m.ind  to  the  joys  of  the  hour. 

60.  So  deft  had  been  the  engineering,  that  when  with 


58.  Note  how  efifeetively  the  swift  physical  description 
"  places  "  the  second  wife  for  us.  S.  S.  M.,  222 :  9.  A  few  refer- 
ences elsewhere  reinforce  the  impression;  note  them. 

60.  Includes  further  rapid  characterization  of  the  contributing 
persons,  by  way  of  preparing  us  better  to  appreciate  the  signifi- 
cance of  their  comments  later  on.  The  details  also  serve  further 
to  impress  us  with  the  artificiality  and  scheming  of  the  "  affair," 


An  Epilogue  339 

a  soft  rustle  and  commotion  the  guests  took  seats,  they 
were  ordered  almost  exactly  as  marked  on  the  chart  of 
the  supper-table  drawn  by  Sally  when  she  composed  her 
party  as  she  might  have  done  a  bouquet.  Mrs.  Gaston- 
bury  at  the  head,  between  Judge  Silloway  and  Herbert 
Kinglake,  after  herself  the  greatest  guns,  who  would  feel 
themselves  entitled  to  that  honor.  Next  to  the  judge,  who 
was  no  great  talker,  a  lovely  prattler  such  as  all  men  like, 
Rose  Lancey.  Next  to  Kinglake,  Lady  Shcrson,  of  course ; 
and  next  to  her  Dix.  They  would  have  the  common  in- 
terest of  their  art.  Mother  at  the  other  end  of  the  oval 
table,  good,  safe  Walter  Cudworth  at  one  hand,  and  her 
son  John  at  the  other,  which  would  save  her  the  necessity 
of  trying  to  appear  clever.  Adeline  between  the  minister, 
with  whom  to  be  intellectual,  and  the  composer  of  "  Fig- 
urines," with  whom  to  be  musical.  John  at  the  side  of 
the  exquisite  Miss  Kinglake,  like  himself,  young.  Olivieri, 
who  had  the  reputation  of  being  impossible,  right  at  her 
own  side.  "  My  best  is  good,"  had  said  Sally ;  "  I  will 
do  my  best."  At  Olivieri's  left,  Mrs.  Morrison,  whose 
dubious  qualification  for  the  post  was  that  she  read  Dante 
in  the  original.  Almost  most  important  of  all,  at  mother's 
end  of  the  table  Professor  Morrison,  the  one  man  present 
who  could  be  expected  to  sustain  adequately  a  conversa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Gastonbury.     Prompted  at  the  right  mo- 


and  of  its  manager,  Miss  Sally.  An  important  part  of  the  moti- 
vation of  carrying-plot  (introd.  n.  4)  appears  in  the  closing  sen- 
tences.— ^  Throws  revealing  light  on  the  stupid  and  ignorant  con- 
ception on  the  part  of  the  Villars  women,  especially  Sally,  of 
social  and  intellectual  intercourse;  pi'esents  an  instance  of  the 
"climbers'"  inept  and  incompetent  planning.  (Incidentally,  our 
sense  of  justice  is  gi-atified  by  the  recoil  on  Miss  Sally,  in  its 
consequences,  of  her  social  scheme.) 


340  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

nicnt,  he  was  to  address  a  question,  a  request  to  her.  She 
would  answer  across  the  length  of  the  table.  The  others 
would  stop  talking  to  listen.  There  would  ensue  a  memo- 
rable evening,  such  an  evening  as  one  finds  recorded  in 
literary  memoirs.^ 

61.  The  table  was  crowded;  several  of  the  men  merely 
sat  near  it,  behind  fair  shoulders,  and  the  fair  shoulders 
so  arranged  themselves  as  not  quite  to  present  their  backs. 
A  charmingly  informal  look  was  given  to  the  picture  by 
this  irregularity;  it  "  composed  "  better  ^  like  that,  Villars 
would  have  said.  He  had  a  chair  slightly  behind  Lady 
Sherson  and  Dix.  Cornelia  and  Jane's  window  was  so 
close  that  he  could  have  an  eye  to  their  comfort.  When 
waiters  began  to  hand  bouillon,  he  was  obliged  to  draw  in 
his  chair,  w-hile  Cornelia  and  Jane  considerately  pulled 
their  little  table  farther  into  the  shadow  of  the  window 
curtains  to  make  room  for  the  passing. 

G2.  "  Exactly  the  way  I  should  have  chosen  it  to  be," 
Cornelia  glowed.  A  chance  to  behold  a  banquet  such  as 
one  reads  about,  from  a  sort  of  grand-tier  box,  without 
constraint,  without  responsibilities.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
miss  one  bit  of  this,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Banks,  trying  to 
multiply  eyes  and  ears  and  all. 


61.  '  See  (1),  n.,  par.  35. 

62.  See  n.,  par.  4-14.  Incidentally,  Miss  Cornelia's  remark  ex- 
presses the  suitable  point  of  view  for  the  reader,  as  mentioned 
heretofore.  Perhaps  the  author  did  not  awaredly  plan  this  rela- 
tionship of  the  reader  to  the  facts  of  her  narrative;  but  even 
if  she  did  not,  it  is  created  naturally  by  her  conception  of  the 
story  and  the  way  to  present  it;  i.e.,  by  one  of  the  instinctive 
manifestations  of  skill  that  are  common  in  art.  (Trained  imag- 
ination coupled  with  skill  in  construction  produces  a  great  many 
excellences  in  writing  that  are  not  consciously  planned  for  by 
the  artist,  but  merely  achieved  by  him  instinctively.     Criticism  is 


An  Epilogue  341 

63.  It  was  the  delight,  as  fresh  as  a  young  girl's,  of 
her  own  impressions  that  brought  Miss  Cornelia  to  the 
thought,  "  What  must  it  have  seemed  like  to  a  girl  of 
seventeen  who  had  never  seen  anything  better  in  her  life 
than  Willow  Creek  and  our  little  sitting-room  at  home  to 
walk  into  this  room  and  surprise  them  at  dinner  I  "  ^  In 
the  picture  called  up  there  entered,  with  stirrings  of  an 
outlived  sorrow,  the  remembrance  of  a  tombstone  in  the 
moonlight.  The  grievous  consideration  of  all  that  one 
misses  by  lying  in  the  grave  led  to  a  firmer  taking  hold 
then  and  there  on  the  belief  that  those  who  stand  in  the 
light  of  the  throne  can  miss  nothing.  Her  wistful  imagi- 
nation of  that  light  made  the  scene  before  Miss  Cornelia's 
eyes  look  for  one  second  gross,  dull,  disenchanted,  like 
pebbles  with  which  children  have  been  playing,  pretending 
they  were  jewels.^ 


largely  concerned  with  these  consequences  of  an  instinctive,  or 
unconscious,  art.  Important  as  a  study  of  such  effects  is  in 
giving  one  a  conception  of  technique,  and  important  as  conscious 
technique  itself  is,  the  student  must  nevertheless  guard  himself 
against  the  notion  that  conscious  technique  is  the  greatest  thing 
in  expression.  Technique  is  a  means  only ;  the  great  things  in 
art  are  a  knowledge  of  life  and  clearly  defined  and  realized  con- 
ceptions of  it  in  particular  aspects.  Mere  knowledge  of  the 
means  of  expression  is  not  enough  for  the  creation  of  excellent 
literature;  the  means  must  be  employed  with  power  of  expres- 
sion, and  power  of  expression  comes  much  more  fi'om  power  of 
understanding  and  imagination  than  it  does  from  the  engineering 
of  the  constructor  or  the  mechanics  of  the  builder.  It  is  the 
product  of  spiritual  resource  and  imaginative  virility.) 

63.  '  In  other  words,  she  had  in  part  the  point  of  view  of  an 
artist.  In  exactly  such  a  way  might  the  writer  get  the  gei-m- 
idea  for  a  dramatic  or  psychological  narrative-sketch  or  a  short 
story — i.e.,  by  having  an  eye  to  see  and  a  mind  to  ponder;  by 
being  sensitive  to  objective  facts  of  the  life  passing  under  his 
observation,  and  mentally  alert  to  discover  and  interpret  their 


342  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

64.  "  ISTow,  which  one  is  Miss  Adeline  ?  And  which 
is  Miss  Sally  ?  I  must  decide,"  she  returned  to  the  press- 
ing business  of  the  hour,  "  She  always  spoke  of  Miss 
Adeline  as  very  fine-looking,  and  Miss  Sally  she  made  the 
difference  of  saying  was  pretty.  Miss  xidcline  was  the 
musician,  Miss  Sally  the  wit.  Their  name  was  Potts 
when  their  mother  remarried.  I  don't  wonder  they  cared 
enough  to  change  it  for  such  a  pretty  name  as  Villars." 

65.  "  Adeline!  "  came  a  voice  in  front  of  Cornelia,  be- 
longing to  the  feminine  form  whose  back  was  most  com- 
pletely turned  toward  her.  "  Will  you  get  John's  eye  for 
me  ?    I  can't  very  well  throw  a  breadball  at  him." 

66.  So  that  was  Adeline,  the  one  in  heliotrope  under 
a  film  of  black  lace,  whose  face  had  made  her  think  of  a 
sheep!     Well,  well,  twelve  years  do  make  a  difference. 

meaning. — '  Psychological  detail.  It  serves  (a)  to  amplify  the 
characterization  of  Miss  Cornelia;  (b)  as  a  means  of  introducing 
naturally  and  inobviously  a  spiritual  comment  upon  life;  (e)  by 
putting  the  worldly  in  contrast  with  the  spiritual,  to  give  us 
another  angle  from  which  to  estimate  the  character  of  the  arti- 
iicial  Yillarses  measured  by  the  nobler  ideals  of  religious  sim- 
plicity, and  by  comparison  with  the  simple  naturalness,  sweetness, 
and  unselfishness  of  Mary-Dora. 

64.  Note  the  naturalness  of  the  return  to  the  immediate  scene 
and  its  persons ;  the  addition  of  descriptive  and  characterizing  de- 
tail (one  of  the  many  instances  of  distributed  detail) :  and  espe- 
cially the  device  (quotation)  by  which  we  are  kept  thinking  of  the 
dead  heroine,  the  central  person — "she  always  spoke.   ..." 

65.  Miss  Sally's  "  wit  "  and  her  degree  of  social  polish  are  ade- 
quately indicated  by  her  brief  request.  No  interpreting  words 
are  used;  none  are  needed. 

66.  More  distributed  detail.  Here  the  description  reverses  the 
impression  provided  in  par.  64,  thus  gaining  the  emphasis  of 
contrast. — Noting  the  age  of  the  two  sisters  (par.  69),  visualize 
them  in  the  dress  and  jewels  they  wear,  and  from  your  own 
observation  of  women,  estimate  the  accuracy  of  the  portrayal  and 
its  value  as  a  means  of  indicating  character. 


An  Epilogue  343 

This  lady  was  all  right  in  herself, — what  lovely  amethysts 
she  wore ! — but  as  filling  the  idea  one  had  carried  about 
for  years  of  the  wonderful  Adeline 

67.  "  Sally  wants  you,"  she  was  heard  to  say  in  an 
aside  directed  toward  John. 

68.  And  that  was  Sally  in  the  red  silk  and  pearl  neck- 
lace, who  had  made  Cornelia — her  fancy  was  given  to  such 
humors — think  of  a  pug-dog !  She  was  a  lot  fresher  than 
Adeline,  but  she  was  not  young,  either. 

69.  "  But  then  the  dear  child,  if  she  were  here,  would 
be  near  thirty  tonight,"  Cornelia  reflected.  "  I  keep  for- 
getting that.  She  was  something  like  ten  years  younger 
than  Sally,  who  was  several  years  younger  than  Adeline. 
I  don't  suppose  I  look,  either,  just  the  same  as  I  did 
twelve  years  ago.  Yes,  dear  Mr.  Peter,"  she  greeted  him, 
"we've  had  everything;  we've  had  more  than  is  good  for 
us.  Ices,  yes ;  cake,  yes ;  punch,  no.  Jane  and  me 
couldn't  do  with  that,  could  we,  Jane!  What  are  they, 
Mr.  Peter  ?  Sugared  violets,  did  you  say  ?  Sugared 
violets  !     What  will  they  think  of  next !  " 

70.  "  The  last  time  I  was  in  this  house,"  Kinglake  was 
saying  softly  to  Lady  Sherson,  while  their  host  devoted 
himself  to  his  friends  from  the  country,  "  was  in  Mr. 
Vanstock's  time.  Old  Potts  bought  the  house  of  the  Van- 
stocks  very  nearly  as  it  stood.     Whatever  good  pieces  you 

70.  Further  illuminating  detail.  Note  the  commonplaeeness  of 
character  and  station  relentlessly  betrayed  by  the  connotation  of 
the  name  Potts — a  hint  of  the  value  of  the  appropriate  naming 
of  persons.  But  the  Pottses  have  now  become  Villarses,  a  change 
itself  symbolic  of  their  (material)  rise  in  life.  The  assumption 
by  the  sisters  of  the  name  Villars  (par.  64)  is  indicative  of  their 
ignorant  estimate  of  values  and  their  vulgar  though  vaulting 
ambitions. 


344  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

seo,  it  was  Vanstock  picked  them  \ip.  The  French  mez- 
zotints  ''      He    dropped    the    subject    abruptly,    and 

turned  to  make  room  for  John,  who  came  tendering  the 
box  of  fairy-small,  straw-thin  cigarettes  that  Sally  had 
sent  him  for. 

71.  "  These  ?  Oh,  thanks  !  "  Lady  Sherson  measured 
them  with  a  quizzical  eye.  "  But,  my  young  friend,  keep 
those.     I  will  take  one  of  Mr.  Kinglake's." 

72.  The  moment  had  now  come. 

73.  "  Mrs.  Gastonbury,"  began  Professor  Morrison  in 
the  voice  that  was  used  to  making  itself  heard  in  lecture- 
rooms,  "  the  story  goes,  and  has  even  been  printed,  that 
in  your  travels  once,  being  unexpectedly  obliged  to  stop 
over  at  some  small  wayside  place,  in  a  village  strange  to 
you,  you  came,  while  taking  a  walk  to  pass  the  time  be- 
tween trains — came  upon  Sylvia,  a  girl,  the  story  goes, 
corresponding  in  every  point,  even  name,  with  the  heroine 
of  your  well-known  book,  the  purest  creation  of  your 
brain.     Will  you  tell  us " 

74.  "  My  dear  sir,"  responded  Mrs.  Gastonbury,  with 
her  highly  educated,  measured,  precise  enunciation,   "  I 


71.  "  The  smart  one  "  is  a  natural  artist  in  betraying  lack  of 
savoir  faire  and  the  pretentiousness  of  ignorance.  Note  Lady 
Sherson's  quizzical  estimate  of  the  cigarettes. 

72-74.  On  dialogue,  see  S.  S.  M.,  235 :  11-17 ;  the  professor's 
language  is  cultiv'ated  and  literary — and  unconsciously  pedantic 
and  diffuse. — Although,  for  reasons  already  mentioned  (as  in 
introd.  n.  3,  the  fii'st  part  of  introd.  n.  4  and  in  introd.  n.  5), 
formal  construction  is  relatively  subordinate  in  the  present  story, 
we  are  not  to  assume  that  structure  is  lacking.  The  development 
provided  by  the  author  has  three  stages.  The  first  (pars.  1-71)  by 
introducing  preliminary  facts  and  presenting  the  contributing 
persons  lays  broadly  a  foundation  for  that  part  of  the  narrative 


An  Epilogue  345 

am  sorry  to  say  there  is  no  foundation  whatever  for  the 
tale."  As  if  unaware  oi  what  was  desired  from  her,  she 
turned  again  to  Judge  Silloway  and  resumed  her  conver- 
sation with  him. 

75.  Mrs.  Gastonbury  in  these  days  habitually  looked 
very  tired,  very  detached,  very  pale,  as  if  a  whiff  of  wind 
might  blow  away  the  faint  pastel  picture  that  she  made. 
Habitually  her  eyebrows  were  raised  as  far  as  they  would 
go,  which  gave  her  a  look  of  pitying  all  before  her,  and 
being  lified  on  thoughts  of  other  things  to  be  pitied  far 
away.  She  had  overcome  a  good  deal  at  her  age  to  take 
a  journej  and  give  her  services  in  the  cause  that  would 
forever  find  her  unhardened — the  children ;  now  she  was 
tired,  anc  unmoved  by  the  faintest  sense  of  obligation  to 
do  more  for  these  rather  vulgar  rich  people.  Judge  Sil- 
loway w£s  giving  her  facts  she  earnestly  cared  to  hear, 
curious  as  ever  about  the  realities  of  life. 


which  is  to  reveal  the  essential  plot  and  characterization  facts 
necessary  t)  the  history  of  Mary-Dora.  The  second  part  (pai's. 
72-202)  presents  the  significant  body  of  these  plot  facts  and  their 
accompanying  essentials  of  characterization.  Part  three  (pars. 
203-227)  concentrates  itself  upon  the  Villars  family,  showing 
them  in  th?  realization  of  the  tragedy  disclosed  by  part  two — 
each  of  tlem,  according  to  character,  taking  it  in  his  or  her 
way.  It  h  this  part  too  that  provides  the  reader  with  the  con- 
clusive evidence  of  the  truth  of  the  tragic  facts  (see  iatrod.  n.  3). — 

Exercise:  Plot  the  period  of  crisis  in  Mary-Dora's  life  for 
direct  presentation  instead  of  indirect ;  that  is,  construct  a  plot 
embodyug  the  basic  situation  (introd.  n.  4)  in  its  own  place, 
time,  ani  setting,  presenting  its  events  when  and  as  they  origi- 
nally to)k  place — a  plot  telling  the  struggle  and  fate  of  Mary- 
Dora  drectly,  with  the  little  heroine  herself  moving  through  the 
action. 

75-76.  Mrs.  Gastonbury  represents  one  of  the  four  classes  de- 
picted in  the  story — the  artists,  the  noa-ar(istic  but  educated  and 
cultuied,  the  everyday  "ordinary"  person    (Miss  Cornelia  and 


346  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

76.  "  ITcre  cndcth  the  first  lesson,"  mumbled  Sally, 
and  let  her  eyes  weigh  a  moment  longer,  indecipherably 
charged,  on  the  white  head  and  calm,  fragile  figure  of  that 
spoiled  pensioner  on  the  world's  good-will  who  had  thus 
simply  dropped  her  and  her  party  into  the  waste-bssket. 

77.  "  If  it's  up  to  us,  then," — she  pulled  herself 
together  to  retrieve  the  defeat, — "  here  goes !  Signor 
Olivieri,  we  were  talking  of  singers,"  she  in  a  bravely 
audible  voice  tossed  down  on  the  cloth  a  subject  which  she 
thought  a  fertile  one.    "  Patti  and  jSTilsson  were,  of  course, 


Mrs.  Banks),  and  the  prosperous  vulgar  and  ignoran:.  Let  the 
student  enter  in  their  proper  column  the  names  of  the  persons  be- 
longing to  each  class.  If  then  he  will  take  note  of  the  conversa- 
tion and  acts  of  these  persons  individually,  he  will  find  two  things: 
(a)  that  the  person  has  been  chai'acterized  as  an  indivickal,  accord- 
ing to  class  (S.  S.  M.,  208:2-4,  with  notes;  182:6-9),  aud  espe- 
cially with  reference  to  his  or  her  manifestation  of  sym{:)athy  with 
and  comprehension  of  the  personality  and  the  genius  of  Mary- 
Dora  ;  for  the  author  intends  us  ultimately  to  realize  both  the  hard- 
ness and  the  dullness  of  the  world  toward  some  of  its  finest,  most 
beautiful,  and  most  gifted  spirits.  To  this  end  she  hjs  shown  us 
even  some  of  the  cultured,  evincing  no  real  appreheision  of  the 
qualities  of  the  girl  (e.g.,  cf.  par.  144).  Pars.  7J-76  as  their 
immediate  function  put  the  hard,  vulgar,  and  selish  Sally  in 
contrast  with  the  unselfish  and  finely  comprehensive  author  (ob- 
serve Sally's  shallow  resentment  and  vulgarly  dull  (stimate  of 
the  gifted  woman  when  the  latter  fails  to  serve  her  petty 
purpose). 

77.  The  first  sentence,  quoting  Sally's  thought,  is  apt\y  worded 
(and  not  too  obviously)  to  represent  by  its  language  th»  quality 
of  the  thought  and  of  its  parent  mind.  The  rest  slows  the 
bungling  ineptness  of  the  ignorant  mind,  and  the  "  hali-baked  " 
social  method  of  the  unfinished  person,  in  "  throwing  down," 
much  as  if  it  were  a  medicine-ball  to  be  scrambled  for  aid  then 
tossed  back  and  forth,  a  subject  for  conversation.  Obsa-ve  also 
the  significance  of  sentence  1  in  par.  78. 

On  the  adaptation  of  the  persons  to  their  part  in  the  narra- 
tive,  see   S.  S.  M.,   215:2-5,   noting  especially    (C)    in  4.     The 


An  Epilogue  347 

before  my  time.  I  can't  pretend  to  speak  about  them. 
But  for  my  taste,  Marcella  Sembrich  completely  satisfies 
it.  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  Mrs.  Morrison  and  you  ?  " 
78.  She  tried  at  once  to  involve  Mrs.  Morrison  in  the 
conversation,  because  this  Olivieri  had  so  far  proved  dif- 
ficult to  talk  with.  Of  his  peculiarity  she  had  been 
vi^arned,  but  warned  as  well  of  repaying  riches,  could  you 
reach  them.  There  was  a  suspicious  look  of  genius  on  his 
forehead,  from  which  the  hair  had  begun  to  recede.  He 
was  that  curiosity,  an  Italian  not  suave,  an  Italian  dis- 
pleased with  Italy  as  well  as  with  America,  critical, 
armed,  who  had  as  lief  blame  and  contradict  you  as  not. 
Stories  ran  of  the  difficult  and  fearful  times  his  pupils 
knew  with  him.  The  worth  of  what  he  had  to  give  alone 
explained  the  position  he  preserved.  Clifford-Crane,  who 
was  very  fond  of  him,  had  been  asked  to  bring  this 
waspish  lion.  He  seemed  in  a  good  enough  humor  tonight ; 
so  far  he  had  merely  been  unwilling  to  talk.  He  felt  no 
responsibility;  Crane,  who  had  dragged  him  here,  was 
responsible.  With  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  his  con- 
tradictory face,  at  once  passionate  and  cynical,  looked  al- 
most at  peace  with  a  mistaken  and  pernicious  world. 
And  now  his  lively  neighbor,  to  whose  brand  of  esprit  he 
did  not  at  all  take,  was  trying  to  start  him  on  a  subject 
which  she  had  chosen  as  being  particularly  his  own.     Such 


brusque,  rasping,  impatient  idealist  Olivieri,  concerned  chiefly 
with  the  essential  truth,  not  with  putting  it  with  conventional 
politeness,  as  hard-headedly  stubborn  as  Sally  herself  in  asserting 
his  belief,  and  scornful  of  dullness  and  pretense — only  such  a 
person  would  persist  in  the  dispute  that  arises,  and  outlast  Sally 
in  a  self-assertiveness  that  was  one  of  her  peculiar  gifts.  On 
the  immediate  explanation  of  his  disposition  at  this  point,  see 
S.  S.  M.,  161 :  15-20. 


348  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

a  thing  could  not  be  done  to  liiin.  Still,  with  good  smoke 
to  puff  through  his  nostrils,  he  was  not  averse  to  talking 
a  little.  He  had  been  thinking  while  all  around  him  chat- 
tered ;  a  memory  had  come  back  of  which  it  would  interest 
him  to  talk. 

79.  Mrs.  Morrison  had  finished  telling  how  Sembrich 
affected  her. 

80.  "  The  most  beautiful  voice  I  ever  heard,"  said 
Olivieri,  with  exactly  the  right  effect  of  a  great  authority 
who  in  a  favored  and  congenial  circle  condescends  to  be 
liberal  of  his  personal  observations — "  the  most  beautiful 
voice  I  ever  heard "  Sally's  spirits  rose  on  the  in- 
stant— "  was  your  sister's." 

81.  There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Sally  looked  di- 
rectly at  him,  with  a  growing  light  of  interrogation,  un- 
belief, amusement,  in  her  eyes. 

82.  "  Indeed  ? "  she  asked,  with  meritorious  self-re- 
straint, and  removed  her  eyes  from  him  to  turn  them 
where  Adeline  sat  between  DeJames  and  Clifford-Crane, 
both  of  whom  were  bending  toward  her,  so  that  they  faced 
each  other  like  two  flanking  angels.  "  When  was  it  you 
heard  her  ?  Were  you  favored  with  '  Todt  und  das 
Miidchen  '  or  '  Sapphische  Ode  ?  '  " 

83.  It  was  Olivieri's  turn  to  look  at  a  loss.     He  sent 


79.  Useful  solely  for  "continuity,"  or  coherence;  note  the  com- 
plete suppression  of  detail. 

82.  A  further  indication  of  Sally's  cultural  status — inability  to 
rise  to  the  impersonal ;  the  idea  of  the  socially  incompetent  that 
converse  consists  of  personal  reference  and  repartee,  including  the 
making  of  fun  at  the  expense  of  others. 

83.  The  mstinctive  start  indexes  the  strength  of  his  artistic  pas- 
sion, and  indicates  his  impulsiveness;  and  his  failure  to  conceal 
it  shows  his  own  disregard  of  social  niceties. 


An  Epilogue  349 

his  glance  after  hers,  and  drew  back  as  if  he  had  inad- 
vertently touched  something  red-hot.  "  I  do  not  mean  that 
sister." 

84.  "  Then  you  are  thinking  of  somebody  else's  sister, 
for  across  the  table  you  behold  the  only  sister  I  ever  had." 

85.  "How  singular!  But  no,  no,  my  dear  lady,  it 
surely  was  your  sister.  Are  you  not  Miss  Villars?  She 
was  Miss  Villars  and  your  sister,  living  in  this  house  with 
you." 

86.  "  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  surely  ought  to  know." 

87.  "  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  thing  must  posi- 
tively be  as  it  has  remained  fixed  in  my  mind  these  many 
years." 

88.  "  Signor  Olivieri,  you  are  extraordinary !  " 

89.  "  No,  it  is  you.     Search — search  in  your  memory." 

90.  "  Search  in  my  memory  for  a  missing  sister  ?  " 

91.  "  Could  he  mean  Mary  ?  "  came  tentatively  from 
John,  at  the  end  of  the  table  beside  his  mother.  Miss 
Kinglake  and  he  were  at  a  conversational  standstill ;  they 
had  for  some  minutes  been  listening  to  the  talk  of  the 
others. 

92.  Sally  looked  blank,  and  as  if  she  were  faced   in 


84.  Given  a  Sally  and  an  Olivieri,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  dis- 
pute will  be  disputed  to  the  end.  It  begins  here.  Its  progress 
provides  the  opportunities  for  introducing  all  the  varied  (and 
characteristic)  remarks,  opinions,  and  judgments  of  the  different 
guests,  through  which  at  last  our  conception  and  understanding 
of  Mary-Dora  are  produced,  and  through  which,  because  of  their 
characterizing  significance,  we  are  brought  to  perceive  how  hard 
and  unfit  the  soil  and  how  unfavorable  the  environment  in  which 
that  rare  plant  of  womanhood  and  genius  was  placed.  The  stu- 
dent will  do  well  to  take  particular  note  of  the  recurrence  of 
such  passages. 

92.    Indicative  of  the  first  "  cropper  "  that  Sally  comes — and  of 


350  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

fact  with  the  enormity  of  having  dropped  a  sister  com- 
pletely out  of  mind.     She  rallied  in  a  second. 

93.  "  But  she  was  not  my  sister.  She  was  John's — 
that  is  to  say,  his  half-sister.  She  was  Mr.  Villars's 
daughter  by  his  first  marriage — Mary  Villars,  of  course." 

94.  "  Her  Christian  name  I  have  forgotten,"  Olivieri 
said.  "  Was  it  that  ?  Mary  ?  Mary !  It  does  not  rouse 
the  right  echo  in  my  ear." 

95.  "  Because,  it  is  plain,  you  are  thinking  of  some- 
body else.  What  was  it  brought  about  this  search  among 
the  family  records  ?  Your  remark  that  the  most  beautiful 
voice  you  had  ever  heard  was  my  sister's.  jSTothing  is 
more  certain  than  that  Mary  neither  had  a  voice  nor  could 
sing.     Had  she,  John  ?     Could  she  ?  " 

96.  John  shook  his  head  negatively,  but  more,  by  his 
expression,  as  if  he  wondered  than  as  if  he  were  so  sure. 

97.  "  By  no  possible  straining  can  she  be  made  into 
the  person  you  are  talking  about,  Signor  Olivieri." 

98.  Olivieri,  with  his  eye  on  Sally,  seemed  to  hesitate 
and  consent  to  reconsider.  He  gave  a  nod  so  resolute  that 
it  knocked  the  ash  oif  his  cigarette. 

99.  "  It  was  she." 

100.  "  But  this  becomes  absurd !  You  won't  mind  my 
saying  so  ?    She  was  a  little  girl  from  the  country,  sixteen, 


course  indicative  of  her  character,  "  the  enormity  of  having 
dropped  a  sister  out  of  mind."  Observe  the  confirmation  of  her 
character  in  the  nature  of  her  apologia  in  par.  93. 

96.  The  first  of  the  cumulating  facts  that  convince  us  of  the 
truth  about  Mary-Dora  and,  also,  of  the  entire  "  enormity  "  of  the 
Villars  attitude  toward  her. 

100.  From  this  paragraph  forward,  we  have  frequent  exposi- 
tion, by  means  of  the  dialogue,  of  essential  facts  about  Mary-Dora 
and  the  situation  in  which  life  placed  her.     Note  them. 


An  Epilogue  351 

seventeen,  eighteen;  she  lived  vv^ith  ns  a  year;  then  went 
back  to  the  country,  married,  and  not  long  afterward  died. 
And  not  one  of  us,  or  anybody  else,  ever  heard  her  sing, 
particularly,  or  knew  she  had  a  voice." 

101.  "  I  heard  her  sing,  and  know  she  had  a  voice,  the 
most  beautiful  natural  organ  I  have  heard  in  my  life." 

102.  What  was  to  be  done  with  a  man  like  this  ?  Sally 
had  been  prepared,  but  not  for  anything  quite  so  disgust- 
ingly rude.  Her  hand  itched  to  deal  him  a  swift,  un- 
ceremonious slap. 

103.  "  Will  you  tell  us,"  she  asked,  with  a  return  to 
exemplary  composure,  "  when  it  was  you  heard  this  ex- 
traordinary voice  ?  " 

104.  "  Not  with  exactitude,  but  it  was  a  good  number 
of  years  ago,  when  I  was  still  new  in  this  country.  She 
came  to  my  studio,  and  I  tried  her  voice." 

105.  "  What  did  she  look  like  ?  " 

106.  "  Young,  very  blonde, — that  I  remember  well, — 
and  very  innocently  beautiful." 

107.  Sally  shook  her  head,  with  a  pitying  and  con- 
vinced smile. 

108.  "  I  don't  wish  to  seem  unkind,  but  it  doesn't 
sound  much  like  a  description  of  the  Mary  we  had  among 
us." 

109.  "  After  so  long  I  could  not  pretend  to  remember 
details  with  precision,  as,  what  color  were  her  eyes,  was 

102.  The  rudeness  distributes  itself  at  least  equally.  Fi'om  the 
last  sentence,  the  reader  can  judge  where  the  greater  lack  of 
moral  and  social  discipline  lies. 

103.  Here  and  throughout,  Miss  Sally's  form  of  expression  not 
only  is  a  rude  challenge  of  the  truthfulness  of  her  guest,  but 
worse,  a  hard  and  cruel  denial  of  the  possibility  of  merit  in  the 
dead  step-sister. 


352  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

her  iicck  long  or  short,  had  she  a  distinguishing  mark, 
mole,  on  her  cheek  or  chin.  But  my  impression  I  have 
not  forgotten,  that  she  was  charming  enough  to  melt 
hearts.  And  with  the  voice  added,  the  voice  cultivated 
and  strengthened,  it  seemed  to  me  she  could  conquer  the 
world — if,  let  it  be  added,  she  had  been  willing  to 
work." 

110.  "There  is  here  the  most  amazing  equivoke!" 
cried  Sally,  with  a  toss  of  her  hands,  almost  angry  in  its 
helplessness. 

111.  "  Not  at  all.  No  equivoke  at  all.  It  is  as  I  tell 
you." 

112.  "  Yes,  yes,"  Sally  caught  back  her  effect  of  well- 
bred  patience ;  "  a  pretty  girl  came  to  your  studio,  you 
tried  her  voice,  and  it  was  the  loveliest  in  the  world :  but 
the  girl  was  not  our  Mary." 

113.  "  There  came  to  my  studio  to  have  her  voice  tried 
a  beautiful  girl,  fresh  as  the  dew  on  the  wild  rose,  and 
her  voice  was  divine,  was  the  voice  of  a  young  angel,  una- 
ware of  methods  or  arts  or  of  herself — a  song-bird  born, 
xlnd  this  girl  was  your  sister  or  your  brother's  sister  or 
his  half-sister  or  stepsister — w^as,  in  short,  the  Mary,  the 
Helen,  the  Catherine,  who  lived  with  you  in  this  house 
ten  or  more  years  ago." 

114.  Excitement  made  his  peculiar  voice  hot  and 
sharp.  Besides  Mrs.  Morrison  and  her  husband,  besides 
John    and    Miss    Kinglake,    there    had    begun    to    listen 


112.  The  stubborn  persistence  of  the  prejudiced  and  crude. 

113.  Another   passage   of   dialogue   giving   direct   information 
about  Mary-Dora. 

114.  Miss  Sally — characteristically — has  taken  the  course  that 
is  certain  to  attract  attention  to  the  dispute. 


An  Epilogue  353 

Clifford-Crane  opposite,  and  Adeline  and  the  Rev.  Andrew 
DeJames. 

115.  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  may  be  necessary 
to  convince  you,"  Sally  contended  for  her  ground.  "  I 
wonder,"  she  offered  coolly,  not  to  him,  but  to  the  air  be- 
fore her,  "  what  young  woman  can  have  thought  it  worth 
while  to  pass  herself  off  as  our  relative.  Did  she  come 
again?  How  does  the  story  continue?  The  surprising 
thing  is  that  she  did  not  get  a  term  or  two  of  lessons  from 
you  on  the  security  of  her  borrowed  name." 

116.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  why  I  am  so  certain  who  she 
was  ?  "  He  looked  like  a  player  with  an  ace  to  lay  down. 
"  She  was  brought  to  me  by  a  man,  at  that  time  a  friend 
of  mine,  whose  name,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  have  forgotten. 
He  was  also  a  friend  in  this  house.  To  make  it  clear 
whom  I  mean,  he  was  affianced  to  Miss  Villars."  By  a 
motion  of  his  head  he  indicated  Adeline,  who  looked  down 
at  the  table-cloth,  her  cheek  mantling  with  a  dark  blush. 

117.  Sally  laughed  as  if  in  triumph. 

118.  "Oh,  that!  As  proof  positive — George  Chap- 
man, do  you  mean  ?  " 

119.  "  That  is  the  name — Chapman.  He  has  been 
gone  a  long  time  from  this  city." 

120.  "  Really,  Signor  Olivieri,  for  one  who  has  seen 
so  much  of  the  world "    Sally  archly  derided  him. 

121.  "  I  have  seen  so  much  of  the  world,  my  dear  lady, 
I  have  known  so  much  of  cheating,  lying,  deceiving,  that 


116.  As  pointed  out  in  n.  78,  only  a  person  like  Olivieri  would 
have  been  inclined  or  able  to  meet  Miss  Sally  with  such  weapons 
— her  own  sort. 

121.  We  are  warranted  in  thinking  sentence  1  carries  beneath 
the  surface  a  reference  to  the  Villarses. 


354  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

when  people  are  not  impostors  I  know  it  also.  This  friend 
of  the  house  brought  a  young  prospective  relative  in  whom 
he  was  interested,  for  he  was  himself  an  excellent  musi- 
cian, to  ask  my  opinion  of  her  voice.  I  gave  it  as  I  have 
given  it  to  you." 

122.  "And  then?" 

123.  "  Then  when  I  saw  him  again,  we  talked  the  voice 
over,  and  the  possibilities,  the  business  side.  I  thought 
surely  to  have  the  young  girl  for  a  pupil.  When  she  did 
not  return,  I  after  a  time  asked  Chapman  about  it.  I 
forget  the  explanation,  what  reasons  he  gave.  But  I  know 
what  I  said  to  him :'  If  it  is  a  question  of  money,  I  will 
take  that  girl  as  my  pupil  for  nothing.  I  will  give  her 
her  training — singing,  language,  acting,  for  nothing,  for 
love.  I  feel  gifts  in  her  of  which  nor  you  nor  she 
knows  anything.  I  will  make  of  her  the  miracle  of  her 
time.'  " 

124.  Sally  burst  out  laughing.  Mrs.  Gastonbury 
turned  her  way,  and  looked  a  pitying  curiosity  at  that  ex- 
cited foreigner,  with  his  physiognomy  of  an  angry  and 
disappointed  idealist. 

125.  "  Nothing  is  wanting,"  cried  Sally — "  nothing 
except  some  proof  that  all  this  was  not  a  dream.  For  the 
important  fact  remains  that  Mary  Villars  of  this  house 
had  no  more  voice  than  a  little  cat.  I  think  that  we,  if 
anybody,  ought  to  know.  Whence,  Signor  Olivieri,  this 
desire  to  mystify  us?  You  are  whimsical,  I  have  heard, 
but  have  you  not  had  fun  enough  out  of  our  heavy 
stupidity  ?     What  is  it,  John  ?  " 


123.    Observe  the  value  of  naturally  reported  cumulative  detail 
in  conveying  the  impression  of  truth. 


An  Epilogue  355 

126.  "These." 

127.  John,  who,  unmissed,  had  slipped  from  the  room, 
laid  on  the  table  two  photographs.  Olivieri  seized  upon 
them  with  eyes  that  probed  and  grasped,  while  everyone 
near  looked  expectantly  at  him  as  he  studied  the  pictures. 
His  hand  came  down  like  a  lion's  paw. 

128.  "  Certainly,  it  is  the  one.  Here  is  the  proof. 
The  image  had  faded  from  my  memory.  This 
revives   it." 

129.  "  Oh,  nonsense!  "  escaped  from  Sally. 

130.  "  May  I  see  the  pictures  ?  "  asked  Professor  Mor- 
rison, with  his  characteristic  alertness  of  interest. 

131.  "  Might  I  ?  "  His  wife  extended  her  hand  for 
them  on  his  behalf. 

132.  "  It's  no  proof,  anyhow,"  continued  Sally,  "  for 
the  simple  reason  that  the  larger  picture  doesn't  look  like 
her.  Anybody  can  tell  that  the  photographer  used  every 
artifice  to  make  it  as  much  as  possible  like  a  fancy  picture. 
And  the  picture  taken  with  John  in  a  broad  collar,  hu- 
morous souvenir  of  an  excursion  to  the  beach,  certainly 
doesn't  give  you  much  idea  of  what  is  under  the  brim  of 
that  straw  hat.    All  you  see  is  a  grin." 

133.  "  I  see  a  dimple,"  said  the  professor.  "  It  is 
true  that  the  larger  picture  looks  like  what  we  are  pleased 
to  call  a  fancy  picture." 

134.  "  Girls  of  seventeen  do  sometimes  look  like  fancy 
pictures,"  said  Miss  Henrietta  Marsh,  to  whom  the  photo- 

130.  At  this  point  begin  the  comments  and  contributions  of  the 
rest  of  che  company.  Some  serve  to  represent  the  sympathy  or 
lack  of  sympathy  of  the  world;  some,  to  give  information  about 
Mary-Dora.     See  n.  75-76. 

134.  An  example  of  the  placing  of  corrective  or  illuminative 
comment  in  the  mouth  of  ancillary  persons. 


356  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

graph  had  been  passed.  "  If  it  were  not  differing  with 
you,  Miss  Villars,  I  should  call  this  rather  good — better 
than  the  class  picture,  which  is  all  I  have  of  her." 

135.  '*  Humph !  "  coughed  Dr.  Cudworth,  looking  in 
his  turn. 

136.  "  It's  flattered,"  Mrs.  Villars  assured  him  above 
a  whisper. 

137.  "  Oh !  "  came  in  a  tone  of  sweet  pity  from  Sibyl 
Kinglake,  who  had  held  out  her  hand  to  have  the  picture 
next — ^''oh!  oh!"  She  was  a  young  and  lovely  vision 
herself, — Cornelia  likened  her  to  a  white  greyhound, — 
she  searched  with  sympathetic  eyes  this  face  of  one  young 
and  lovely  and  destined  not  to  live.     "  Oh !  " 

138.  Clifford-Crane  had  swung  round  to  look  at  the 
picture  with  her.  "  Schneewittchen!  "  he  remarked,  with 
an  echo  in  his  intonation  of  his  neighbor's  pity  and  ten- 


135.  Recall  the  characterization  of  Dr.  Cudworth  given  by  Mr. 
Villars,  and  judge  of  the  appropriateness  of  the  remark  assigned 
to  him. 

136.  Mrs.  Villars,  formerly  Potts,  is  weakly  seconding  Sally's 
disparagement  of  the  step-child.  For  evidence  that  the  remark  is 
in  keeping,  see  the  characterization  in  par.  60  and  par.  58,  and 
her  behavior  in  the  closing  episode  of  the  narrative  (pars.  203  ff). 
If  one  wishes  to  speculate  on  remote  elements  of  character  and 
motivation,  he  may  ponder  the  fact  that  Adeline  seems  the  most 
likable  and  least  offensive  of  the  Villars  women,  and  is  apparently 
the  one  whose  life  has  been  fullest  of  the  softening  and  human- 
izing influences  of  emotional  experience  (pars.  116  and 
215). 

137.  Description  by  indication  of  the  effect  produced  on 
another;  the  impression  is  strengthened  by  the  author's  swift  char- 
acterization of  the  sensitive  girl  who  is  thus  moved  by  the  picture. 
"  Like  appeals  to  like."  The  next  paragraph  is  of  like  nature, 
giving  the  impression  made  upon  an  artist  (composer),  plus  his 
sensitive  poetic  characterization  of  the  original  of  the  picture. 


An  Epilogue  357 

derness — "  Schneewittchen,  or,"  he  added,  palpably  with- 
out malice,  "  Cinderella/' 

139.  "Thanks;  I  have  seen  it."  Adeline  waved  it 
along  when  it  came  to  her. 

140.  ''  Errrrrr,"  cleared  his  throat  the  Rev.  Andrew 
DeJames.  ''  The  shadows  didn't  come  out  very  strong, 
did  they  ?     Or  has  it  faded  very  much  ?  " 

141.  "  What  is  it  they  are  looking  at  ?  "  Rose  Lancey 
asked  over  her  shoulder  of  her  husband.  She  had  taken 
a  cigarette  to  lend  her  support  to  Lady  Sherson,  and  set 
balmy  lips  to  it  from  time  to  time,  just  enough  to  keep 
it  burning.  She  sent  a  side-glance  of  inquiry  from  the 
deeply  shining,  long-fringed  eyes  that  had  made  Cornelia 
call  her  an  Alderney  cow.  "  Let  me  see,  too.  I  want  to 
see.  Why,  it's  Dora  Villars !  I  went  to  school  with  her. 
Little  Dora  Villars !     '  Nahum's  bride,'  we  used  to  call 

her.      Was   she  any  connection   of Oh !  " —     She 

pressed  an  extinguisher  over  her  voice, — "  I  hadn't  heard, 
of  course.  It's  the  daughter  of  our  host,"  she  murmured 
to  Judge  Silloway  as  they  bent  over  the  photograph  to- 
gether. "  Why  do  they  bring  it  out  like  this  if  she  is 
dead?" 

142.  "  It  makes  me  think  of  a  wild  morning-glory," 
said  the  judge,  eying  it  through  glasses  far  down  his  nose, 
and  not  looking  as  if  he  tried  to  be  poetic. 

143.  Does  it  remind  you,  as  it  does  me,   a  little  of 


140.  "  An  ass,  utter."    Par.  53. 

141.  As  we  should  expect  from  the  person  speaking,  the  remark 
is  trivial.  The  author  makes  it  count,  however,  as  preparation  for 
the  information  given  in  par.  161. 

142.  Its  impression  upon  an  elderly  man  whose  profession  tends 
to  make  one  formal,  fact-seeking  and  unimpressionable. 

143.  The  most  sensitive  judgment  and  the  most  adequate  inter- 


358  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Botticelli's  '  Venus  '  ?  "  Mrs.  Gastonburj,  after  prolonged, 
and  as  if  conscientious,  examination,  asked  Kinglake, 
with  whom  she  shared  her  turn  to  look.  "  That  most 
touching  of  all  Venuses,  whom  he  sometimes  calls  a 
Madonna,  singularly  perfect  embodiment  of  the  creature 
who  has  no  weapons,  no  defences, — nothing  with  which  to 
fight  or  with  which  to  protect  itself, — nothing  but 
beauty !  " 

144.  "  I  believe  I  see  what  you  mean,  Mrs.  Gaston- 
bury,  though  frankly  I  should  not  have  thought  of  it  in 
looking  at  this  charming,  but  very  human,  young  girl, 
who,  like  my  ethereal  daughter  over  there,  adored  ice- 
cream, I  have  no  doubt,  and  stamped  her  foot  when 
things  were  not  to  her  mind.  See  this  healthy,  rounded 
cheek.  The  model  for  the  '  Venus '  you  speak  of  I  have 
read,  was  a  consumptive." 

145.  "  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  anything  very  literal," 
Mrs.  Gastonbury,  upon  not  being  understood,  withdrew 
at  once;  "  I  was  thinking  of  the  expression." 

146.  "  Botticelli's  '  Venus  '  ?  "  asked  Lady  Sherson, 
laying  down  her  cigarette  to  have  a  hand  for  each  picture, 
and  with  her  refreshing  bluntness  promptly  corrected, 
"  A  goose-girl !     A  heavenly  goose-girl !  " 

pretive  comment  comes  from  Mrs.  Gastonbury.  In  the  next  para- 
graph the  art  collector  fails  to  appreciate  this  comment,  but 
complements  Mrs.  G's  interpretation  with  impressions  of  the 
material  rather  than  the  spiritual. 

145.  Cf.  the  social  (and  personal)  savoir-faire  of  the  gentle- 
woman with  the  behavior  of  Miss  Sally. 

146.  Lady  Sherson  (consider  the  type  of  woman  she  is)  more 
baldly  puts  the  same  physical  aspects  mentoned  by  Kinglake. 
Each  of  these  two  reveal  a  limited  amount  of  spiritual  perception 
in  comparison  with  the  creative  artists,  Clifford-Crane  (music), 
Dix  (painting)  and  Mrs.  Qastonbury  (literature). 


An  Epilogue  359 

147.  "  I  perceive  the  likeness  you  speak  of," — Dix 
nodded  his  fastidiously  refined,  gray  face  to  Mrs.  Gaston- 
bury, — "  I  spent  an  hour  or  more  once  before  the  pathetic 
flower-blue  eyes  of  that  miracle,  Botticelli's  '  Venus,'  just 
mooning,  wondering  what  would  happen  in  this  world  of 
ours  to  a  creature  who  looked  like  that." 

148.  "  Fair  Simonetta,  who  was  the  original,  tradi- 
tion says,  died  young.  And  this  poor  child,  I  under- 
stand  " 

149.  Peter  Villars  had  the  picture  in  his  hand  now, 
and  gazed  as  if  it  were  as  new  to  him  as  to  anybody  pres- 
ent, though  it  was  from  his  bedroom  that  John  had 
gone  to  take  it.  Cornelia  had  risen  to  look  at  it  with 
him. 

150.  "  It's  the  same  one  we  have,"  was  all  she  said. 
"  Let  me  show  it  to  Jane." 

151.  Sally  and  Olivieri  were  still  contending.  Their 
contention  had  reached  a  degree  of  almost  laughable  heat, 
a  dropping  on  each  side  of  deference  to  the  other's  state- 
ments, so  improbable-seeming,  it  looked  like  a  comedy  they 


147.  In  the  remark  of  the  painter  is  obviously  put  the  motif 
of  the  basic  situation :  what  would  happen  in  this  world  of  ours 
to  a  creature  like  that.  Cf.  par.  143,  Mrs.  G's  interpretation, 
and  her  more  direct  inference  in  par.  148. 

150.  The  discussion  has  of  course  got  far  beyond  Miss  Cor- 
nelia's depth.  Her  act  is  the  natural  behavior  of  a  good-souled, 
ordinary  woman,  in  whom  the  photograph  of  the  dead  stirs  merely 
personal  associations  (see  end  of  par.  179). 

151.  The  author  has  now  provided  us  with  a  sufficiently  varied 
body  of  impression  and  judgment  for  the  formation  of  an  estimate 
of  Mary-Dora;  and  she  brings  us  back  to  the  immediate  dispute. 
The  student  will  observe  that,  although  in  fact  we  have  ranged 
far  away  from  the  immediate  matter  (the  quarrel),  we  have  felt 
no  sense  of  suspended  action  or  digression.  Study  the  way  in 
which  this  sense  of  unity  and  coherence  has  been  preserved. 


3 GO  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

played  for  the  amusement  of  their  now  fully  interested 
audience. 

152.  "  Oh,  it's  no  good  talking  to  you!  "  Sally  broke 
from  the  brisk  duet,  with  a  laugh  not  too  flagrantly  exas- 
perated. "  Miss  Marsh," — she  cut  into  a  remark  of  that 
lady's  to  the  professor, — "  you  knew  Mary.  She  went  to 
you  all  that  winter.  Did  you  know  she  had  a  voice  and 
could  sing  ?  " 

153.  Miss  Marsh  appeared  to  reflect.  She  shook  her 
head. 

154.  ''  I  can't  say  I  did." 

155.  "  But  if  she  had  been  so  wonderful,  you  would 
have  known,  wouldn't  you  ?  You  would  have  been  sure 
to  know  and  then  to  remember.  Did  you  ever  know  a  girl 
fonder  of  praise  ?  " 

156.  "  She  tried  very  hard  to  please  me,  always.  That 
I  do  remember,  and  with  gratitude." 

157.  "  Yes,  she  would  come  home  prouder  than  a  pea- 
cock of  a  good  report,  show  it  to  each  one  of  us  separately, 
and  wait  to  be  complimented.  Every  little  accomplish- 
ment she  acquired,  every  little  improvement  she  made, 
every  trifle  she  turned  out,  were  it  a  pin-cushion  with  one 
rosebud  in  the  middle,  or  a  drawing  of  a  woolly  tree,  or 
a  water-color  of  three  ivy-leaves,  she  would  bring  home 
for  us  to  admire.  When  she  had  got  so  far  along  with  her 
piano-lessons    that   she   could    play   the    '  Jolly   Farmer ' 


156.  Another  remark  that  results  in  interpreting  the  character 
of  Mary-Dora — impartially.  The  hostile  interpretation  of  the 
same  facts  by  Miss  Sally  in  par.  157  therefore  merely  serves,  pri- 
marily to  strengthen  our  unfavorable  estimate  of  her,  and  through 
that,  to  reveal  still  more  evidentl>  the  nature  of  the  world  which 
the  spirit  of  Mary-Dora  had  to  mecv 


An  Epilogue  361 

through,  do  you  think  she  would  let  us  forget  it  ?  She 
was  positively  infantile  in  that  respect.  She  adored  to 
show  off.     And  you  wish  us  to  believe " 

158.  "I  am  not  explaining;  I  am  giving  facts,"  said 
Olivieri.  "  The  explanation  every  person  will  have  to  find 
for  himself." 

159.  "  Here's  another  point  against  you.  She  had  all 
her  life  lived  in  the  country,  the  backwoods,  never  been 
anywhere,  never  seen  anything,  so  that  when  she  came  to 
us  it  seemed  to  her  amazing,  prodigious — all  the  geese 
swans,  all  the  pebbles  pearls.  My  sister  plays  the  piano; 
she  thought  her  a  Carrerio.  I  permit  myself  sometimes 
to  scribble  doggerel;  I  was  a  John  G.  Saxe.  She  was 
ignorant  enough  to  misplace  her  admirations,  but  her  eyes 
were  opened  by  them  to  her  own  deficiencies ;  it  all  made 
her  necessarily  feel  small  and  modest.  And  when  this 
discovery  was  made  of  a  gift  compared  with  which  all  we 
could  show  was  cheap,  this  child,  with  her  passion  for 
praise,  her  natural  envy  of  our  advantages,  kept  it  a  dead 
secret,  you  maintain  ?  " 

160.  Sally's  belligerent  eye,  now  secure  in  triumph, 
swept  around  the  table. 

161.  "  Yes,"  replied  Olivieri,  unexpectedly.  "  Hor- 
rible !  horrible  !  "  He  clasped  his  head.  "  Thrown  away  !  " 
he  went  on.     "  A  voice  like  that !     A  gift  like  that !  " 


158.  The  realization  that  everyone  will  so  readily  find  the 
explanation  of  the  facts  is,  of  course,  what  makes  Sally  so  ener- 
getic in  disputing  the  fact — that  and  the  unpleasant  trait  in  her, 
of  being  pettily  jealous  and  unjust.  For  outright  indication  of 
this  trait,  see  the  close  of  her  remarks  in  par.  159.  In  justice, 
however,  we  must  recognize  her  ignorance. 

161.  Olivieri  is  cruel  and  rude,  but  by  this  time  we  are  inclined 
to  share  with  him  his  savage  satisfaction  in  thus  laying  on  the 


362  Today's  Short  Stories  Anata'zed 

1G2.  One  or  two  present  felt  a  paradoxical  unholy  de- 
sire to  laugh. 

163.  "  Rose," — Miss  Marsh  raised  her  voice  to 
speak  across  the  table, — "  Dora  was  at  Ferncliffe 
Lodge  during  your  time.  Had  you  an  idea  of  this 
talent?" 

164.  "  I^one,  dear  Miss  Marsh.  I  suppose  Dora  sang 
the  morning  hymn  at  chapel  with  the  rest  of  us,  but  I 
couldn't  swear  even  to  that.  I  didn't  know  her  very  well, 
you  know ;  she  was  a  day-scholar.  She  was  a  sweet,  sweet, 
funny  thing  that  everybody  liked  and  teased  a  little,  be- 
cause, as  Miss  Villars  has  said,  she  was  so  new  to  every- 
thing and — sort  of  innocent,  you  know.  Three  or  four 
of  us  silly  things  once  got  our  heads  together  during  a 
rainy  recess  and  began  telling  the  attentions  we  had  had 
from  boys.  She  told  us  about  j!^ahum,  a  young  farmer. 
We  never  forgot.  You  know  what  girls  are.  But  all  of 
us  liked  her,  we  were  crazy  about  her  hair,  and  when  we 
voted  for  a  Mayqueen,  she  got  it.  That  picture,  excellent 
otherwise,  doesn't  half  give  you  an  idea  of  her  fairness — 
pale-gold  hair,  pale  forget-me-not  eves,  complexion  like  a 
lily." 

165.  "  Ah !  "  spurted  from  Olivieri,  in  a  fiery  disgust, 
"  What  a  Marguerite,  what  a  Micaela,  it  would  have 
been !  " 

166.  "  !Not  at  all,"  Sally  answered  him  with  grim  lips ; 
"  for  had  she  had  the  voice  you  speak  of,  and  had  she  be- 


seourge  of  judgment.  So  did  some  of  the  guests  (par.  162). 
(See  also  par.  167.) — Pars.  163-170  continue  the  work  of  the 
preceding  paragraphs  already  commented  on ;  but  in  168-169  we 
have  the  most  intense  part  of  the  situation  so  far,  the  dispute 
having  risen  to  its  highest. 


An  Epilogue  363 

come  your  pupil  ten  times  over,  she  would  now  have  been 
dead  for  ten  years,  all  the  same." 

167.  "Who  knows?"  he  perversely  inquired. 

168.  Sally  looked  at  him  as  one  who  in  sparring  should 
receive  an  unfair  blow,  and  should  stand  with  deadly  eye 
selecting  the  spot  on  the  adversary  where  to  strike  in  re- 
turn. She  moistened  her  lips,  then  wuped  them.  An 
effect  of  protest  against  the  organist  was  felt  among  the 
audience,  none  could  have  told  exactly  how. 

169.  Mrs.  Morrison  was  thinking  she  must  jump  in 
with  a  remark  about  the  north  pole  or  the  sea-serpent  or 
any  wild  thing.  Sibyl  Kinglake  was  in  acute  misery. 
The  scene  felt  to  her  altogether  like  an  evil,  unnatural 
dream.  How  in  actual  life  could  all  these  people  have  for- 
gotten that  the  father  and  brother  of  that  poor  young  girl 
were  present  ?  A  spell  of  stupidity  seemed  to  have  been 
cast  over  them  by  the  dreadful  voice  of  that  woman  with- 
out heart  who  set  the  example. 

170.  Sibyl  moved  restlessly  on  her  chair,  wondering 
would  it  be  too  improper  for  her  to  be  the  first  to  get  up 
from  the  table  and  say  good-night.  Miss  Marsh  was  con- 
sidering the  same  solution,  and  on  the  point  of  giving  it 
practice,  when,  "  Miss  Villars !  Miss  Villars !  "  rose  a 
fluttering  voice,  drawing  all  eyes  toward  the  embrasure 
of  the  window  whence  it  came.     Sally  turned  around. 

171.  "  Tell  him,"  Miss  Cornelia  stood  up,  tremulous 
with  excitement,   "  tell  him  again — "  she  referred  with 


171.  Miss  Cornelia's  speech,  beginning  here,  fills  out  the  history 
of  Mary-Dora  with  additional  and  oaore  connected  detail.  Observe 
that  her  account  consists  largely  of  exposition,  and  is  introduced 
out  of  chronological  order  (chronology  plays  little  part  in  the 
present  nstrrative),  yet  is  much  more  significant  to  us  now  be- 


364  Today's  Shout  Stokies  Analyzed 

her  hand  to  Oliviori,  as  if  he  had  been  one  to  whom  an 
interpreter  was  necessary  for  snch  as  herself,  "  from  me, 
Miss  Villars,  that  he  is  mistaken." 

172.  She  felt  the  whole  table  looking  at  her  now.  The 
table  was  in  fact  wondering  more  actively  than  it  had 
done  about  the  country  gentlewomen,  with  hands  visibly 
marred  by  housework,  who  seemed  to  form,  as  it  were,  an 
interlude  in  a  different  key  to  the  harmony  of  the  bril- 
liant assemblage. 

173.  "  Tell  him  I  ought  to  know%  Miss  Villars.  Mary- 
Dora  lived  with  us,  my  sister  and  me,  most  all  the  days 


cause  meantime  Mary-Dora  herself  has  become  significant.  This 
suggests  the  vakie  of  dislocation  for  the  sake  of  emphasis,  impres- 
siveness,  or  increased  interest.     S.  S.  M.,  122 : 1-3 ;  152 :  2-3. 

172.  In  the  conte,  introduction  of  an  incongruous  person  is 
harder  to  manage  than  in  the  novel.  Miss  Cornelia  is  incongruous 
in  this  company.  Yet  the  author,  having  decided  to  present  the 
story  of  Mary-Dora  by  bringing  together  the  persons  best  able 
to  give  an  account  of  her,  had  to  include  Miss  Cornelia.  Go 
through  the  story  observing  the  way  in  which  her  presence  is  pro- 
vided for  and  convincingly  explained.  The  management  is  so 
effective  that  we  feel  no  sense  of  strangeness  in  her  being  there; 
study  it.  Again,  Miss  Cornelia's  contribution  to  the  history  and 
judgment  of  the  girl  is  indispensable.  Once  more,  consider  how 
her  character,  her  social  status  and  conventions,  including  her 
village  point  of  view,  along  with  her  sense  of  personal  relation- 
ship with  Mary-Dora  and  of  acquaintanceship  with  the  family, 
and  her  failure  really  to  comprehend  the  situation, — all  combine 
to  motivate  her  sudden  in-uption  into  this  untoward  discussion 
(see  closing  part  of  179).  It  is  not  to  be  assumed  that  the 
author  consciously  reasoned  this  out  in  detail;  but  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  her  conception  as  a  whole  was  so  definite  and  com- 
plete that  this  motivation  was  provided  naturally  and  truly  by 
the  soundness  and  completeness  of  the  conception.  Observe  too 
the  passing  touch  of  temporary  situation  in  the  author's  remark 
about  the  curiosity  of  the  guests  about  her;  this  adds  to  the 
verisimilitude  of  the  presentation  at  this  point. 


An  Epilogue  365 

of  her  life.  Such  a  thing  as  he  tells  of  could  not  have 
been,  and  we  never  know  a  word  of  it,  when  Mary- 
Dora " 

174.  "  Maridora — that  is  the  name!  "   Olivieri  nodded 
decisively.     "  Maridora  !  " 

175.  "  She  was  named  after  both  of  her  grandmothers," 
Cornelia  explained  to  the  roomful,  "  and  always  called 
by  the  two  names  so  as  to  show  no  partiality.  Her  father 
and  mother  each  wanted  to  please  the  other.  They 
brought  her  to  us  when  she  was  a  little  mite  of  a  girl,  be- 
cause they  wanted  she  should  have  good  care  and  country 
air,  and  their  work  in  the  city  made  it  so  they  couldn't  look 
after  her.  They  came  down  together  to  see  her  every  little 
while,  and  how  they  did  wonder  to  find  her  grow  so  fast ! 
My  sister  and  I  had  other  children  to  board.  We  did  that 
for  something  to  do  after  Clementine  gave  up  teaching 
school.  We  had  the  museum,  with  all  the  curiosities  my 
father  brought  home  from  his  voyages,  but  after  every- 
body round  had  seen  it,  not  much  came  in  from  that.  So 
there  were  some  years  when  we  made  out  by  taking  chil- 
dren to  board,  and  we  had  Mary-Dora  from  the  age  of 
two.  We  didn't  expect  to  keep  her  on  and  on  till  she 
grew  up.  But  we  did,  as  it  turned  out;  we  brought  her 
up.  She  was  like  our  own  child.  Anybody  who'd  ever 
seen  her  at  home  would  know  that  she'd  no  more  have  had 
a  secret  from  us  two Tell  your  friend,  Miss  Villars." 

176.    "  Could  she  sing  ?  "  asked  Sally. 


174.  Note  the  strength  of  confirmation  given  to  Olivieri's  previ- 
ous assertion  by  this  interjected  exclamation.  The  impression  is 
stronger  than  any  direction  assertion  could  have  made  it. — Mark 
the  little  touches  of  personal  recollection,  and  how  they  add  to 
our  realization  of  and  sympathy  for  the  child. 


366  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

177.  "  'No,  that's  just  what  I  wanted  you  should  tell 
him.  She  sang,  just  as  any  girl  does,  working  round  the 
house,  nothing  to  speak  of.  You'd  never  notice  it  any 
more,  I  guess,  than  as  if  I  should  sing.  We've  always 
been  meaning  to  get  a  parlor-organ,  but  we  haven't  got  it 
yet.  All  she  knew  was  hymns  and  the  things  young  folks 
pick  up  from  one  another.  She  told  us  when  she  came 
home  that  she'd  been  taking  piano  lessons,  and  seemed 
dreadfully  pleased  with  that,  but  not  a  word  about  sing- 
ing." 

178.  "  The  case  is  perfectly  clear,"  Sally  turned  away 
from  Miss  Cornelia  as  if  all  that  was  necessary  had  been 
heard  from  this  witness. 

179.  But  Cornelia,  having  once  overleaped  the  barrier 
of  shyness  and  climbed  up  on  the  stage,  could  not,  with 
the  impetus  of  her  daring  act  unspent,  so  soon  descend 
again,  with,  particularly,  the  sense  upon  her  of  the  audi- 
ence's friendliness.  She  spoke  to  them  now  collectively 
rather  than  directly  to  Sally,  and  went  on  to  fulfil  the 
pious  duty,  as  she  seemed  to  feel  it,  toward  the  dead,  of 
making  them  known  and  understood. 

180.  "  Till  she  w'as  near  seventeen  she  was  contented 
as  could  be  with  us,  exactly  as  if  she  had  no  other  family. 
But  one  day  when  there  was  nothing  we  were  expecting 
less  she  said  she  wanted  to  go  to  the  city  and  see  her 
father,   and  the  little  brother  that  she  had   never   seen. 


180.  The  reader's  sensibility  is  trusted  to  comprehend  the  girl's 
eagerness — largely  affection,  part  curiosity,  part  the  longing  of 
lonesomeness  and  awaking  genius — its  genuine  rustic,  unspoiled 
simplicity,  and  the  inevitable  chilling  of  her  tender  spirit  by 
the  reception  these  things  would  meet  among  folk  of  the  Vil- 
lars  kind.  But  to  reinforce  or  direct  the  reader's  intuition,  pars. 
184,  211,  and  216  contain  passages  expressive  of  the  fact. 


An  Epilogue  367 

We  didn't  oppose  her,  because  her  father's  business  had 
kept  him  for  quite  some  time  from  coming  to  Willow 
Creek.  It  was  natural,  we  realized,  too,  she  should  have 
a  hankering  to  see  the  city  and  how  people  live  there  and 
what  it's  like.  We  wanted  she  should  write  and  ask  first. 
But  she  begged  us  not  to  make  her.  She  said  she  would 
like  to  surprise  them.  She  was  dreadfully  excited  about 
the  idea  of  surprising  them.  We  suspected  that,  besides 
wanting  to  see  the  world,  she  wanted  to  go  away  from 
Willow  Creek  till  she  could  make  up  her  mind  about 
Nahum,  without  him  near." 

181.  Miss  Cornelia  looked  over  at  beautiful  Eose 
Lancey,  and  nodded  to  her  very  amicably,  smiling. 
"  Nahum  is  my  nephew,  and  I  don't  think  I've  ever  known 
a  young  man  to  set  his  heart  so  powerfully  on  a  girl. 
Mary-Dora  was  fond  of  him  all  the  time  she  was  growing 
up,  but  when  they  were  old  enough  so  that  he  wanted  to 
marry  her,  it  had  the  result  it  sometimes  does,  of  making 
her  want  to  get  away  from  him.  He  was  twenty-one,  and 
she  was  only  seventeen,  you  see,  and  as  much  of  a  child 
as  she  had  ever  been.  She  seemed  to  have  grown  afraid 
of  him,  though  she  was  fond  of  him,  too,  and  it  hurt  her 
terribly  to  do  anything  that  would  hurt  him.  Clementine 
and  I  understood  how  it  was,  and  sympathized  with  what 
we  knew  came  from  just  youngness.  We  thought  it  would 
be  best  for  both  to  let  her  find  out  how  she  really  felt  about 
Nahum,  give  her  a  chance  to  see  other  men  and  other 
ways,  and  to  see  if  she  thought  anybody  would  ever  think 
as  much  of  her  as  ISTahum  surely  did." 

182.  As  with  the  story-teller's  simple  art,  she  paused 
a  moment,  an  unguarded  sound  came  from  Peter  Villars, 
a  groaning  sigh   that  he  converted  into  a  cough   as  ho 


368  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

shifted  position,  throwing  the  otlier  leg  across  the  other 
knee. 

183.  If  Miss  Cornelia  heard,  it  made  no  proper 
dint  on  her  consciousness,  for  she  pursued  unper- 
turbed. 

184.  "  She  was  gone  just  a  year.  We  hadn't  hardly 
believed  she  should  ever  come  back  except  to  visit  us.  But 
there  she  was,  come  home  for  good,  she  said.  It  wasn't 
that  she  had  been  disappointed  with  the  city, — you  should 
have  heard  her  run  on  about  it !  all  the  fine  things,  the 
grand  doings,  the  dresses, — but  she  was  a  country-girl, 
and  guessed  she  would  be  happier  there  in  the  country 
with  us  country-folks.  She  loved  us  all  most  to  death 
those  first  days  after  her  return,  and  as  soon  as  jSTahum 
came  around,  looking  thin,  he  had  missed  her  so,  she 
didn't  just  take  him ;  she  as  good  as  said,  "  Take  me !  " 
He  was  the  happiest  boy!  And  we  were  happy  for  him, 
knowing  what  a  good  girl  he'd  got.  For  Mary-Dora 
wasn't  just  like  everybody.  It  wasn't  that  she  was  beau- 
tiful, as  you  seem  to  think  from  her  picture,  though  she 
was  nice-looking,  healthy,  and  didn't  freckle,  or  that  she 
always  did  right  according  to  the  book.  But  she  was  lov- 
ing, and  dreadfully  tender  of  others.  She  wanted  so 
dreadfully  everybody  should  be  pleased  with  her  and  like 
her,  she  would  do  'most  anything  to  make  them.    And  not 


184.  The  pathos  of  Mary-Dora's  existence  is  strongly  empha- 
sized by  the  unconscious  falling  short  in  appreciation  of  her — her 
beauty,  her  character,  her  genius — revealed  by  so  kindly  and  well- 
meaning  a  soul  as  Miss  Cornelia.  See  especially  the  pitiful  fact 
disclosed  in  173 — that  Mary-Dora  could  not  take  her  nearest 
friends,  Miss  Cornelia  and  Miss  Clementine,  into  her  confidence 
about  her  aspirations,  hopes,  and  fears,  because  they  do  not  under- 
stand or  even  apprehend. 


An  Epilogue  369 

all  the  beauties  or  virtues  or  knowledge  could  ever  be  so 
winning  as  that."  Fearing  her  voice  sounded  weepy,  Cor- 
nelia resumed  more  stoutly :  "  But  she  was  no  singer,  nor 
she  never  went  to  any  music-master  to  have  her  voice  tried, 
or  we  should  have  heard  about  that  from  her,  as  we  heard 
about  everything  else.  But  if  for  any  reason  which  I  can't 
imagine  she  should  not  have  told  her  old  aunties,  she 
would  have  told  Xahum,  and  in  the  long  evenings  he  used 
to  come  and  spend  with  us  just  for  the  comfort  of  talking 
about  her,  he  would  have  told  us.  But  I'll  ask  him  when 
I  go  home.  He  has  remarried, — that's  life ! — but  I 
don't  believe  he  has  forgotten  one  thing  that  had  to  do 
with  Mary-Dora.  Poor  little  Mary-Dora !  "  the  country- 
woman, having  got  so  well  under  way,  and  feeling  so  sure 
of  the  general  sympathy,  kept  placidly  on  after  the  obvious 
stopping-place  had  been  reached,  "  you'd  think  something 
in  her  soul  told  her  how  it  would  be,  and  that's  what  made 
her  so  afraid  of  Nahum  and  marrying  him,  only  she 
didn't  understand  clearly  enough  what  it  said." 

185.  The  speaker  felt  suddenly  uncertain  that  she  was 
not  a  fool,  perhaps  an  indelicate  fool,  instead  of  an  inter- 
esting figure  occupying  the  center  of  the  platform.  "  But 
I'm  afraid  I've  talked  till  everybody's  tired,"  she  hur- 
riedly remarked.  "  Ever  since  I  came  into  this  house 
Mary-Dora's  been  running  in  my  mind,  and  it  seems  kind 
of  natural  to  be  talking  about  her ;  that's  my  excuse.  But 
I've  taken  up  too  much  of  your  time.  In  the  country,  you 
know,  where  we  live  more  scattered,  and  don't  see  com- 
pany so  often,  we  get  into  the  way  of  telling  our  stories 
with  more  of  the  particularities.  You  must  forgive  me 
for  being  so  lengthy."  She  smiled  all  around  her,  apolo- 
getically, and  in  doing  it  caught  sight  of  Peter  Villars' 


370  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

face.  For  the  first  moment  she  realized  of  wliat,  un- 
pardonable seatterbrain !  she  had  been  guilty.  Collapsing 
in  confusion  on  her  chair,  she  held  a  pleading  hand  dubi- 
ously toward  her  friend.  Peter  took  it,  and  patted  it,  with 
an  entire,  if  rather  absent-minded,  kindness. 

186.  Her  subsiding  seemed  a  signal  for  one  after  the 
other  at  the  table  to  rise.  The  hostess  stood  ready  for 
them  with  hand  and  smile  of  good-night. 

187.  Mrs.  Gastonbury  remained  a  little  longer,  looking 
from  her  distance  at  the  two  sweet-faced  country-women, 
behind  whom  she  saw  in  imagination  lines  of  shadowy 
forms  receding  into  the  past  till  a  tall  sailing-ship  blocked 
the  view;  then  she  came  to  their  table  and,  unpresented, 
spoke  to  them — endeavored,  in  fact,  to  engross  their  atten- 
tion, when  her  ear  caught  the  notes  of  a  biting,  obstinate 
voice  still  holding  to  its  argument. 

188.  "  Nothing  has  been  said  that  confutes  me.  Did 
I  say  she  had  an  ordinary  voice  ?  An  extraordinary  voice, 
I  said.  The  vnlgar  ear  would  naturally  not  discover  it. 
It  had  a  quality  of  adorable  strangeness,  like,  one  could 
imagine,  a  flute  of  glass.     For  the  rest,  Santo  Iddio,  why 


187.  This  is  in  effect  a  comment  on  the  spiritual  obtuseness 
toward  the  beautiful  that  has  always  characterized  Puritanism 
(and  all  hyper-intense  religious  systems).  It  is  introduced  by  mak- 
ing i\riss  Cornelia's  ancestry  an  interpretation  of  that  element  in 
her  character  which  cut  her  off  from  adequate  comprehension  of 
Mary-Dora — a  girl  almost  as  close  to  her  heart  as  a  child  of  her 
own  would  have  been.  Observe  that  this  social,  or  moral,  char- 
acterization is  not  inserted  as  a  mere  opinion  of  the  author,  but 
as  an  intrinsic  part  of  the  narrative  interpretation. 

188.  The  management  of  dialogue  is  masterly  throughout  the 
narrative.  Every  speaker  speaks  "  in  character  "  every  time  he  has 
a  speech.  Olivieri's  manner  here  is  but  a  single  instance.  Prove 
the  assertion  by  finding  others. 


An  Epilogue  371 

should  they  have  known  her  nature  any  more  than  they 
knew  her  voice  ?  " 

189.  "  My  dear  fellow,  do  have  a  little  regard ! " 
Crane  murmured,  and  grasped  the  organist  by  the  elbow 
to  lead  him  away. 

190.  "  Why  ? "  barked  Olivieri,  pulling  loose,  and 
turning  round  to  face  his  friend  with  the  question. 

191.  The  right  answer  not  instantly  presenting  itself, 
Crane,  while  in  search  for  it,  looked  at  the  darkly  sallow, 
bony  face  thrust  chin  forward  at  him,  and  felt  it  futile 
to  reply. 

192.  E'either  spoke  again  to  the  other  until  they  stood 
on  the  door-step,  lighting  their  cigars.  The  red  reflection 
of  the  match  at  which  he  sucked  illumined  by  fitful  flares, 
arid  to  sinister  efl^ect,  the  face  of  the  exile,  which  looked 
as  if  fire  already  had  consumed  everything  but  inde- 
structibly old  sorrows  and  indignations.  The  scant  hairs 
of  the  beard  itself  looked  like  black  wires  that  would  not 
burn. 

193.  "  Eemains  the  question,"  Olivieri  flapped  the 
match  to  put  it  out,  "  why  I  have  never  spoken  of  all  this 
before.  From  the  fact  that  I  have  not,  I  must  think  that 
I  was  bidden  to  regard  it  as  a  confidence." 

194.  Last  of  all  came  Miss  Cornelia  and  Jane  Banks 
to  shake  hands,  as  proper, — unpresented  though  they  re- 
mained to  the  end, — with  their  hostess. 

195.  "  We  have  to  thank  you  for  a  most  beautiful 
evening,"  Cornelia  beamed  in  elation  over  the  lovely  talk 
they  had  had  with  Mrs.  Gastonbury.     Mrs.  Villars  con- 


189-191.    Cf.  78  and  161. 

193.    A  remark  introduced  as  the  last  buttress  aeeded  by  tha 
case  Olivieri  has  presented. 


372  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

tinned  in  the  fixed  smile  and  mechanical  nodding  response 
she  had  administered  to  all. 

19G.  With  ihese  last  of  the  departures  she  walked  to- 
ward the  door, 

197.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  very  tired/'  Sally  was  say- 
ing to  Mrs.  Gastonbury. 

198.  "  Too  tired,  I  fear,  to  deny  the  charge.  Miss  Vil- 
lars.    But  the  remedy  for  fatigue  is  happily  very  simple." 

199.  "  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  your  room  at  once, 
and  see  that  you  arc  made  comfortable." 

200.  "  That  will  be  very  kind." 

201.  They  passed  out  of  the  door  immediately  behind 
Mrs.  Villars.  Sally's  cherry-bright  train,  shining  and 
rustling  over  the  threshold,  was  the  last  thing  in  the  room 
with  movement  and  sound  to  it  before  the  space  of  a 
minute  during  which  the  deserted  banquet-hall  stood 
empty. 

202.  The  table  in  its  disorder  was  still  such  as  to 
fascinate  the  eye  of  a  hungry  body  or  a  fancy  athirst :  the 
glittering  cups,  with  their  remnants  of  golden  liquid  and 
colored  fruit ;  the  painted  plates,  with  their  rich-smelling 
fragments;   a  bubble-thin  goblet  or  two  through  which 


202.  The  picture  has  its  symbolism.  Here  is  what  is  left  of  one 
of  the  great  "  events "  in  lives  animated  by  selfishness  and  a 
crude,  ignorant  social  ambitiousness — emptiness,  waste  frag- 
ments, fruitlessness,  futility — sham  and  hollowness,  even  in 
splendor;  and  looking  forth  on  it,  the  reminder  of  one  of  the 
victims  of  this  ignorance  and  selfishness — the  picture  of  a  girl 
beautiful  of  body  and  of  spirit,  and  gifted  of  the  gods.  (Observe 
once  more  that  the  reader  is  left  to  make  the  application  for  him- 
self.)— In  par.  201,  we  are  also  at  liberty  to  see  a  symbol — Sally, 
representing  the  relentless  aggressiveness  and  force  of  such  sel- 
fishness and  ignorance,  is  "  the  last  thing  in  the  room  with  move- 
ment and  sound  to  it." 


An  Epilogue  373 

silver  beads  could  be  seen  more  and  more  languidly  rising ; 
in  the  twilight  under  the  table,  limp  and  long,  a  pair  of 
white  gloves  as  they  had  dropped  from  a  lap;  withering 
flowers,  crumpled  napkins,  a  dish  of  almonds  spilled. 
Amid  these  things,  to  the  right  of  it,  the  peel  of  a  tan- 
gerine; to  the  left  of  it,  a  fluted  paper  thimble  that  had 
contained  a  bonbon ;  and  right  across  it  the  stalk  of  a  pale- 
pink  carnation — looking  forth  from  a  silver  frame  un- 
brightened  for  years,  the  face  of  a  young  girl,  with  its 
eyes  of  softness,  its  cheek  of  fairness,  its  smile  of  in- 
genuousness, and  its  mystery. 

203.  Sally,  having  ascertained  what  Mrs.  Gastonbury 
took  for  breakfast,  and,  with  wishes  of  cordial  sound  for 
her  repose,  left  her  in  the  hands  of  the  French  maid,  hur- 
ried down  the  stairs.  She  knew  where  the  family  would 
be  found,  and  made  directly  for  the  sanctum  where  more 
than  once  they  had  assembled  to  talk  over  a  party  and 
congratulate  themselves  on  its  success. 

204.  Nobody  seemed  to  be  speaking  at  the  moment  of 
her  appearance  in  the  smoking-room  door.  Mother  was 
rubbing  her  wrist  where  a  bracelet  had  clasped  it  too 
tightly.  All  her  powder  had  come  off,  her  face  was  red, 
as  well  as  puffed  and  cross.  Adeline  examined  a  tear  in 
her  lace  overdress,  which  a  clumsy  foot  had  trodden  upon. 
With  those  well-known  angular  fingers  she  was  bringing 
the  edges  together,  to  see  how  the  evil  could  be  remedied. 

203.  The  conclusive  ending  begins. 

204.  Continues  the  effect  of  par.  202,  by  giving  characterizing 
indication  of  the  persons,  each  reacting  in  his  significant  way  to 
the  situation,  now  that  the  need  of  restraint  seems  past.  Study 
this.  Note  similarly  the  characteristic  "  swooping  down  "  of  Sally, 
par.  205. 


37i  Today's  Short  Stoeies  Analyzed 

The  violets  at  her  corsage  hung  like  strands  of  a  mop. 
Peter,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  stood  by  a  table  that  had 
bottles  on  it,  and  stared  at  these,  whether  in  absorption 
or  abstraction,  while  tilting  himself  slightly  from  his  toes 
to  his  heels,  and  back  again.  John  was  at  the  mantel- 
piece with  his  forehead  in  his  hands. 

205.  With  Sally  swooping  down,  they  made  a  collec- 
tion of  five  persons  as  little  satisfied  with  life  and  them- 
selves as  could  perhaps  have  been  found  that  night  by 
searching  the  world  over.  All  alike  were  suffering,  in 
each  the  unrest  of  his  soul  taking  a  different  form  of  ex- 
pression. And  all,  in  the  pitiful  human  way,  were  burn- 
ing to  revenge  the  pain  of  the  outrage  done  to  private 
aspirations  in  them  after  decency  by  doing  more  hurt.  Ir- 
ritation and  unkindness  were  ready  to  spring  from  any 
one  of  those  mouths  which  that  honorable  thing,  remorse, 
set  to  such  sour  lines. 

206.  They  were  not  looking  their  most  attractive,  it 
must  be  said,  the  Villarses,  each  tired,  sorely  tried,  and, 
with  the  strangers  gone,  not  caring  a  fillip  whether  he  kept 
his  temper  or  his  dignity.  Unbeautiful  enough  to  be 
touching  in  the  eyes  of  the  angels ;  except  John,  who,  with 
his  fingers  through  his  hair,  and  young,  gloomy  eyes  on 
the  fire,  was  more  sad  than  unpleasant  to  see. 

207.  Sally  went  to  him,  swift  as  a  hawk. 

208.  "  I  have  to  thank  you,  John," — she  spoke  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  while  it  cut, — "  with  all  my  heart,  for 
a  most  brilliant,  agreeable,  and  successful  evening !  " 

209.  "  Let    me    alone,    Sally !  "    he    replied,    without 


205.    A  trait  of  human  nature  is  now  made  to  characterize  and 
motivate  all  the  members  of  the  group. 


An  Epilogue  375 

turniDg  to  look  at  her,  or  putting  enough  spirit  into  his 
warning  to  make  it  of  any  effect. 

210.  "  What  on  eaiih  possessed  you,  will  you  tell  me, 
to  go  and  get  those  photographs  and  turn  a  supper  party 
into  a  morgue!  Oh,  that  beast!"  She  put  the  word  out 
of  her  mouth  as  if  it  had  been  a  beast  indeed  which  she 
found  there  .  "  I  could  have  choked  him,  beast  and  liar! 
And  though  everything  proved  that  he  lied,  those  people 
all  went  home  believing  what  he  said.  John,  it's  a  pretty 
thing  you've  done,  a  pretty  light  you've  placed  us  in !  " 

211.  "  Sally,  let  me  alone !  I'm  sick  enough.  And 
it's  not  what  they  think  makes  me  sick."  He  lifted  his 
voice  to  cover  hers  rising  against  him.  "  It's  you,  and  all 
of  us.  It's  to  think  of  Mary  when  she  was  living  with 
us " 

212.  "  John,  do  you  believe  that  idiotic  yarn  ?  " 

213.  "  Yes,  and  so  do  you." 

214.  "  How  dare  you " 

215.  "  Oh,  Sally,"  came  from  Adeline,  wearily,  "  stop 
pretending!  Of  course  it  was  true.  As  soon  as  he  spoke 
of  it,  I  remembered  George  Chapman,  saying  something 


210.  Sally  is  true  to  her  character  to  the  end.  (Any  change  in 
her  would  lessen  our  feeling  of  the  cruel  forces  of  life  which 
she  typifies;  they  are  relentless  and  uncomprehending  to  the 
end.  In  stoides  of  cheap  sentimentalism,  it  is  not  uncommon  to 
find  the  villain  repentant  and  re-made  at  the  end.  This  (indeed) 
is  the  necessary  or  appropriate  result  of  some  plots ;  but  in  the 
present  story,  with  no  purpose  of  showing  character-change,  it 
would  vitiate  the  basic  conception  of  worldly  forces  and  their 
deadly  effect  upon  the  unworldly.  Herein  is  a  hint  to  be  remem- 
bered about  adapting  character,  situation,  plot,  and  theme  to 
one  another. 

215,  216.  One  by  one  Sally's  contentions  and  pretenses  are 
demolished.    We  are  now  getting  the  conclusive  finale. 


37G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

about  her  voice  to  me;  but  it  was  near  the  time  of  our 
final  quarrel,  and  I  wasn't  interested." 

216.  "  If  you  didn't  know  she  could  sing,  Sally,"  John 
hurried  in  after  Adeline,  "  it  was  because  you  shut  her  up 
every  time  you  caught  her  at  it ;  it  got  on  your  nerves, 
you  said.  After  dad  took  her  and  me  to  New  York  and 
gave  us  the  opera,  she  was  all  the  time  bursting  with  it. 
I  got  so  mad  once  at  the  way  you  snubbed  her  I  tried  to 
hit  you,  and  was  put  to  bed  for  it.    Oh,  I  remember !  " 

217.  "  May  I  ask  were  you  informed  of  the  great  dis- 
covery, the  great  prospects  ?  " 

218.  "  ISTo.  It's  in  part  what  makes  me  feel  so.  She 
was  such  a  chum,  I  was  going  to  build  a  house  when  I 
grew  up,  for  us  to  live  in  together,  with  a  room  for 
dad " 

219.  "  Not  very  complimentary  to  me,  John,"  said  his 
mother,  caring,  nevertheless,  to  protect  him ;  "  but  isn't  it 
reason  enough  why  you  shouldn't  blame  yourself  on  her 
account  ?  You  were  only  a  child.  It's  you,  rather,  Peter. 
Didn't  she  tell  you  ?  " 

220.  "  Oh,  me !  She  knew  just  how  much  I  counted !  " 
He  stared  at  dust  and  ashes  for  a  moment  longer.  "  Be- 
fore the  days  of  our  decline  into  a  floor-walker  and  a  mani- 
cure," he  took  up  a  different  story,  "  I  was  an  art  stu- 

220.  Even  to  the  end  important  bits  of  exposition  are  pre- 
sented. In  stories  presented  by  other  methods,  this  would  probably 
be  unfortunate;  but  as  we  have  seen  already,  chronolosieal  ar- 
rangement of  details  is  unimportant  in  the  present  story.  The  only 
chronology  here  followed  is  that  of  "  the  beginning,  the  middle, 
and  the  end "  of  the  Villars  entertainment,  and  this  is  useful 
merely  in  providing  the  opportunity  to  introduce,  sooner  or 
later,  the  significant  facts  about  Mary-Dora.  Part  of  the  success 
of  the  present  method  of  presentation  is,  that  it  keeps  the  reader 
sorting,  placing,  and  interpreting  his  information  up  to  the  very 


An  Epilogue  377 

dent  and  Mary-Dora's  mother  studied  singing.  And  her 
mother  before  her  was  a  beautiful  singer,  they  say,  who 
might  have  done  something;  but  she,  too,  died  young. 
The  gods  loved  them  all  three.     It's  a  filthy  world!  " 

221.  "  Peter,  will  you  set  down  that  glass !  As  if  your 
judgment  were  not  poor  enough  without  muddling  it  more. 
Will  you  tell  me  what  ailed  you  when  you  arranged  to 
have  that  side-show  at  the  supper  ?  " 

222.  "  Sarah,  there  is  the  right  time  for  everything, 
says  the  Preacher.  You  may  think  it  the  moment  to  nag, 
but  it's  the  moment,  if  ever  was,  to  drink,  and  stop  think- 
ing, if  we  can." 

223.  "  You  seem  all  agreed,"  Sally's  voice  was  heard 
again,  "  to  believe  that  brute's  story.  But  you  haven't 
made  it  clear  why  such  a  little  blabber  as  Mary  should 
have  kept  so  still." 

224.  "  Oh,  Sally !  "  came  again  wearily  from  Adeline. 
Adeline  had  a  stupid  eye,  but,  unlike  her  mother's,  it 
sometimes  sharpened  to  an  edge  of  keen,  almost  alarming 
intelligence.     "  You're  not  so  simple.     Instinct  told  her 


end,  thus  leading  and  forcing  him  to  reconstruct  the  basic  situa- 
tion for  himself.  So  long  as  the  reader  is  kept  interested  by 
this  gradual  accumulating  of  information,  and  in  the  situation  it 
is  disclosing,  perhaps  no  better  way  of  producing  unity  of  impres- 
sion could  be  devised  for  the  purpose  of  the  present  story. — We 
may  (in  speaking  of  the  unities  in  this  story)  note  that  unity  of 
person  is  secured  through  the  prominence  of  Mary-Dora;  that 
unity  of  action,  of  time,  and  of  place  (and  to  some  extent,  of 
atmosphere)  are  attained  solely  through  the  entertainment — i.e., 
by  means  of  the  carrying-plot;  and  that  unity  of  impression  is 
produced  by  our  gradual  realization  of  the  basic  situation  through 
combining  the  incidents  of  the  carrying-plot  into  an  outline  of 
the  basic  situation.  See  introd.  notes  3,  4,  and  (on  unity) 
S.  S.  M.,  178  ff. 


378  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

it  would  give  us  too  exquisite  pain, — in  which  instinct 
was  perfectly  correct, — and  make  us  hate  the  sight  of  her 
more  than  we  hated  it  already.  She  was  dreadfully 
tender  of  others,  you  heard  the  old  lady  say,  and  dread- 
fully anxious  to  be  liked." 

225.  "  I  consider,"  Sally  fired  up,  "  that  we  behaved 
remarkably  well  to  her.  What  claim,  after  all,  had  she 
on  us  ?  " 

22G.  "  ISTone,"  answered  Adeline — "none.  So  why 
should  we  care  ?  " 

227.  "Exactly.  Why  should  we  care ?"  raged  Sally, 
and  inconsequently  burst  out  crying. 


226.  One  could  wish  that  the  author  had  given  us  some  outward 
intimation  whether  this  remark  is  ironical;  from  par.  224,  it 
would  appear  to  imply  a  sarcastic,  but  hopeless  rather  than  bitter, 
comment  on  the  Villars  behavior.  This  would  be  in  keeping  with 
what  we  have  heretofore  inferred  about  Adeline  (par.  136).  It 
would  also  gratify  us  by  permitting  us  to  retain  one  inclination 
to  sympathize  with  her,  thus  better  fitting  itself  to  the  purpose 
of  those  impressions  which  it  is  the  function  of  the  close  to  pro- 
duce on  the  reader — the  confirmation  of  his  judgments,  the  feeling 
of  essential  justice,  pi'operly  distributed,  and  the  gratification  of 
his  personal  sympathies  and  antipathies  toward  the  persons. 

227.  Miss  Sally  has  been  overwhelmed  by  the  force  of  facts, 
and  has  even  been  forced  to  recognize,  but  not  to  appreciate,  a 
state  of  things  that,  to  others,  seems  disquietingly  tragic.  But, 
though  to  this  extent  realization  has  been  forced  on  her,  she  has  not 
surrendered.  She  is  shaken,  defeated,  and  humiliated,  but,  unless 
"  inconsequently  burst  out  crying  "  be  interpreted  as  having  ex- 
treme significance,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  her  character 
has  been  jarred  from  its  foundations,  or  that  she  herself  has 
been  stirred  to  any  great  depth  beneath  the  surface,  except  by 
anger,  chagrin,  and  selfish  resentment. 


THE  DEFECTIVE 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  The  Defective  "  is  a  theme  story,  involving  also 
problem  (S.  S.  M.,  pp.  27-32).  Its  central  thought  is, 
that  the  world  is  so  full  of  eccentricity,  stupidity,  futility, 
and  intolerance  that  association  with  the  feeble-minded 
may  seem  an  escape.  Contributing  thoughts  are,  that  the 
world,  being  dull  of  mind,  accepts  mere  external  signs, 
prevailing  conventions,  or  the  general  belief  as  the  basis 
of  its  judgment,  and  is  incapable  of  discerning  truth  or 
fact  for  itself.  The  problem  is,  what  are  the  marks  of 
deficiency,  and  whether  the  defectives  whom  we  intern  in 
"  institutions  "  are  more  defective  than  some  whom  we  ac- 
cept and  even  respect  for  their  ''  little  specialties  "  ? 

2.  The  story  is  a  social  satire  (social  characterization; 
S.  S.  M.,  257),  but  its  satire,  though  keen,  is  free  of  harsh- 
ness and  bitterness ;  the  tone  is  that  of  urbane  simplicity, 
as  contrasted  with  bald  outrightness,  and  its  style  is  that 
of  unimpassioned  directness.  (For  other  stories  contain- 
ing social  characterization  in  some  prominent  form,  see 
"  Little  Sunbeam  "  "  The  Opal  Morning,"  "  A  Kag-Time 
Lady,"  "  An  Epilogue,"  "  The  Last  Kose  of  Summer," 
"  In  the  Matter  of  Distance,"  "  The  Great  God,"  "  The 
Cat  and  the  Fiddle.") 

3.  Its  central  person,  the  Defective,  is  conceived  and 
presented  as  a  man  of  sounder,  shrewder  reason,  truer  cul- 
ture, gentler  character,  more  equable  and  balanced  tem- 

379 


380  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

perament,  and  finer  sympathies,  than  the  "  normal  "  per- 
sons against  whom  he  is  set  off. 

4.  The  method  of  presenting  the  satire,  or  criticism  of 
life  (society),  is  a  refinement  of  the  familiar  method  by 
which  people  and  institutions  are  described  as  they  appear 
to  a  visitor  from  another  planet.  We  are  shown  persons, 
conduct,  and  standards  as  they  appear  to  the  simple,  but 
shrewd  and  sane  mind,  of  a  man  whose  past  has  kept  him 
free  of  the  influences  of  earlier  familiarity  with  the 
standards  that  he  now  meets.  Their  impression  upon  him 
is  indicated  almost  entirely  through  the  effect  they  pro- 
duce, in  sending  him  back  to  live  by  preference  among  the 
feeble-minded  (description  by  indication  of  effect). 


THE  DEFECTIVE 
By  Fkeeman  Tilden 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Author  and  the  Editors,  from  "  The 

Smart  Set,"   for   March,    1914 

(Copyright,  1914.) 

1.  When  I  first  saw  the  man,  he  was  sitting  in  the 
office  of  the  Mansion  House,  in  Paulham.  His  chair  was 
tipped  back  upon  its  hind  legs,  in  the  approved  fashion 
of  country  hotels,  and  except  for  the  fact  that  he  was 
exceptionally  well  dressed  I  should  have  thought  him  a 
prosperous  townsman,  living  easily  upon  last  fall's  apple 
crop. 

2.  He  was  a  medium-sized  fellow,  smoothly  and  re- 
cently shaved,  and  he  had  a  soft,  almost  timid,  eye.  He 
seemed  to  be  moving  at  a  refined  gait,  toward  forty  years 
old.  He  had  laid  out  considerable  money  on  his  dress, 
and  it  made  him  distinguished,  which  is  the  highest  office 
of  clothes.  I  concluded  that  he  must  be  a  traveling  sales- 
man, probably  in  wine  and  spirits. 

3.  We  got  into  conversation,  and  I  found  that  my 
guess  was  bad ;  he  lived  in  town.  He  was  well  read, 
amply  informed,  pleasant  and  easy  in  discourse,  modest 
in   demeanor.      We    exchanged    cards.      His    name    was 


1-4.  Note  the  immediate  opening,  with  swift  indication  of  en- 
vironment and  the  definite  characterization,  expanding  also,  in  the 
next  paragraph,  into  description  of  the  person.  Pars.  3-4  com- 
plete the  foundational  indication  of  what  he  is. 

381 


382  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Orville  Stackwood.  At  half  past  four  he  took  out  a  fine 
thin-model  watch  and  named  the  hour,  saying  that  he 
should  have  to  be  going  along  toward  home. 

4.  "  Rather  nice  cha}),"  I  said  to  the  hotel  clerk,  after 
Stackwood  had  gone. 

5.  "  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Too  bad  about  him. 
He's  worth  a  lot  of  money,  too." 

6.  "  What  is  too  bad  about  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

7.  The  hotel  clerk  regarded  me  with  that  look  of  aston- 
ishment worn  by  yokels  when  a  stranger  asks  to  be  di- 
rected to  the  post  office.  They  find  it  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  location  of  their  post  office  is  not  a  matter  of  inter- 
national interest.  "  He  ain't  quite  right ;  didn't  you  know 
that  ?  " 

8.  "  ISTot  quite  right  ?  "  I  asked.  "  He  struck  me  as 
being  all  right.    What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

9.  "  I  dunno,"  was  the  answer.     "  That's  all  I  know 

5-7.  Introduces  the  problem-question — is  Stackwood  "  right," 
and  are  others  "  not  quite  right "  who  pass  unchallenged  ? 

7.  The  first  of  various  passages  subtly  presenting  the  possible 
deficiency  of  those  whom  the  world  accepts  without  question. 
This  is  accomplished  mainly  by  putting  familiar  (and  in  them- 
selves trifling)  peculiarities,  eccentricities,  and  behavior  before 
us  with  just  enough  emphasis  or  insistence  to  make  us  reflect 
upon  these  in  comparison  with  similar  matters  in  the  defectives. 
— What  is  the  value  of  the  word  "yokel"  here?  Does  it  place 
this  "  all  right  "  man  in  contrast  with  the  "  not  quite  right "  man 
of  distinguished  manner,  education,  and  address?  As  the  story 
develops,  note  how  many  distinct  classes  of  society  are  intro- 
duced as  foils  to  Stackwood.  Does  the  clerk  represent  merely 
himself,  or  does  he  stand  for  his  class? 

9.  Continues  the  contrast  of  the  stupidly  incurious  clerk  with 
the  intelligent  Stackwood,  and  further  represents  the  sheep- 
mindedness  with  which  the  herd  gets  its  ideas.  Obviouslj'  the 
yokel  is  one  of  those  who  lack  wit  to  judge  whether  Stackwood 
is  "  right "  or  not.     The  idea  recurs  throughout  the  story. 


The  Defective  383 

about  it.  He  ain't  all  there.  He  lives  up  to  Gould's." 
And  then  he  told  me  about  the  great  local  institution  for 
feeble-minded  persons,  built  and  maintained  by  a  certain 
philanthropist  for  the  care  of  the  addled  rich. 

10.  I  was  puzzled.  Then  I  began  to  see  the  joke.  I 
had  been  talking  for  more  than  an  hour  with  a  defective, 
without  knowing  it.  There  may  have  been  something 
tinny  about  my  silvery  laughter.  It  is  not  flattering  to 
discover  that  you  are  capable  of  associating  with  the 
feeble-minded  on  their  own  terms. 

11.  In  the  next  three  days  I  found  out  a  great  deal 
about  the  Institution,  as  it  was  politely  called  by  the 
townspeople.  It  was  undoubtedly  an  institution.  It 
dominated  the  village,  both  as  to  geography  and  sociology. 
Paulham  is  built  upon  a  hilltop ;  and  on  the  highest  point 


10.  Emphasizes  the  undei'lying  idea  of  par.  9,  because  the  nar- 
rator, tliough  evidently  above  the  average,  himself  for  the  time- 
being  accepted  the  idea  that  Stackwood  vpas  defective,  merely 
on  the  clerk's  sayso  and  the  fact  that  the  man  was  an  inmate 
of  "  Gould's." 

11.  In  effect  the  paragraph  is  social  characterization  (social 
characterization  is  necessarily  prominent  throughout  the  story, 
made  so  by  its  purpose  as  a  social  satire).  Note  "  the  Institution, 
as  it  was  politely  called  by  the  townspeople";  quiet  touches  of 
signiheant  detail  like  this,  indicative  of  attitude  in  persons,  classes, 
or  types,  will  be  found  repeatedly.  Part  of  our  pleasure  in  the 
story  arises  from  sensing  the  portrayal  of  representative  facts 
thus  inostentatiously  accomplished.  As  a  name  "  the  Institution  " 
represents  (for  illustration)  that  mental  trait  of  middle-class 
people  which  makes  them  cover  up  what  are  (or  to  them  seem) 
improper  or  unpleasant  facts  by  employing  designations  that  are 
euphemisms  or  circumlocutions — a  trait  that  has  often  stood  in 
the  way  of  adequate  public  understanding  of  matters  of  health, 
morals,  and  the  like,  and  thus  prevented  frank  and  open  dealing 
with  the  problems  they  present. 


384  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

of  the  place,  with  a  magnificent  sweep  of  the  surrounding 
country  before  it,  is  Gould's. 

12.  Gould's  harbored  about  a  hundred  defectives  at  this 
time.  Thcj  were  the  product  of  well-to-do  people;  thus  it 
might  be  said  that  they  were  the  pick  of  the  country's 
imbeciles.  Some  of  them,  having  demonstrated  their  in- 
capacity for  doing  harm,  were  allowed  to  roam  about  the 
streets.  A  few  went  to  church.  I  went  to  church  one  day 
with  a  friend,  who  pointed  out  three  of  them,  sitting 
together  in  a  front  pew. 

13.  "  What  woeful  faces !  "  I  exclaimed,  and  then  be- 
gan to  descant  upon  them,  when  my  friend,  with  mild  tart- 
ness, informed  me  that  I  was  looking  at  the  wrong  three 
persons.  .  .  .  On  another  occasion,  on  the  street,  I  mis- 
took the  president  of  the  Paulham  Bank  for  one  of 
Gould's  aged  wards.  It  is  a  mistaken  policy  that  permits 
these  poor  creatures  to  run  at  large  among  other  people. 
It  abolishes  the  only  certain  manner  of  identifica- 
tion.  .    .    . 

14.  One  day,  a  glorious,  crisp  day  for  walking,  I  met 
Orville  Stackwood  far  out  upon  the  Danwick  road.  He 
was  going  in  the  same  direction  and  I  caught  up  with  him. 
He  carried  a  fine  stick,  with  engraved  silver  mounting. 
We  walked  along  together  for  a  few  moments  without 


13.  Intensifying  incidents,  making  the  satire  more  obvious. 
Observe  how  naturally  the  comment  is  brought  in — the  author's 
thought  introduced  as  the  comment  of  the  narrator.  On  phi- 
losophy of  life,  see  S.  S.  M.,  index. 

14.  Pars.  1-13  suggest  to  us  the  theme,  and  adjust  us  to  the 
satirical  tone.  Par.  14  begins  to  prepare  the  plot  and  its  develop- 
ment. Let  the  student  see  if  it  is  possible  to  determine  from  1-13 
what  the  theme  is,  and  whether  the  problem  is  yet  sufficiently 
indicated. 


The  Defective  385 

speaking.  Then  I  asked  him :  "  Whereabouts  in  Paulham 
do  you  live  ?  "  A  red  flush  came  to  his  face,  and  instantly 
I  felt  like  a  cad.  "  At  Gould's,"  he  replied.  Then  he 
added,  "  The  Institution,  you  know." 

15.  I  was  more  puzzled  than  ever.  That  a  feeble- 
minded person  should  blush  at  giving  his  correct  address 
seemed  apart  from  all  experience.  An  imbecile  would, 
on  the  contrary,  be  proud  of  living  in  the  best  and  biggest 
house  in  town.     I  took  courage  and  continued : 

16.  "  You  strike  me  as  being  an  unusual  person  to  be 
living  at  Gould's." 

17.  I  felt  safe  in  saying  this.  If  he  were  truly  feeble- 
minded, he  could  not  be  hurt  by  the  bluntness,  and  he 
might  be  flattered. 

18.  Stackwood  gave  no  evidence  of  being  either  flat- 
tered or  hurt.  He  looked  at  me  suspiciously  for  a  moment 
out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  and  seemed  to  be  thrown  on 
the  defensive.  Then  he  replied,  in  monotones :  "  I  am  not 
quite  right." 


15-21.  On  the  first  reading,  these  paragraphs  (as  they  should) 
seem  merely  to  be  carrying  the  narrative  forward;  they  leave  us 
still  feeling  (in  22)  uncertainty  about  Stackwood's  mental  "  right- 
ness."  Considered  again  when  we  have  realized  the  purport  of 
the  story  as  a  whole,  they  clearly  present  plain  evidence  of  the 
entire  sanity  and  shrewd  intelligence  of  the  "  imbecile,"  such  as 
any  person  equally  sane  and  shrewd  as  he  should  have  recognized. 
The  satire  here  lies  in  the  fact  that  none  of  those  superior  per- 
sons— none  an  inmate  of  any  "  institution  "  such  as  "  Gould's  " 
— had  sufficient  acumen  or  mental  keenness  to  discover  the 
obvious.  Cf.  7. — That  on  the  completion  of  a  story  its  incidents 
and  detail  shall  be  perceived  to  have  a  greater  or  deeper  signifi- 
cance than  we  realized  while  reading  them,  is  an  indication  of 
masterly  control  and  management  of  materials.  Such  skill  in 
organization  and  motivation  materially  strengthens  the  story  in 
its  total  effect. 


386  Today's  Siioet  Stories  Analyzed 

19.  "  You  arc  not  quite  right  ?  "  I  repeated.  This  was 
simply  incredible:  that  a  defective  should  realize  and  state 
his  case  so  judicially. 

20.  Stackwood's  eyes  became  furtive.  I  thought  for  a 
moment  he  was  going  to  take  to  his  heels.  But  he  replied, 
steadily,  "  I  am  not  quite  right,"  and  nodded  his  head. 

21.  "Whether  it  was  something  about  the  man  that  gave 
the  lie  palpably  to  his  assertion,  and  the  assertion  made 
about  him ;  or  whether  it  was  because  I  felt  that  I  had  a 
duty  toward  myself  to  perform — to  convince  myself  that 
I  was  not  so  feeble-minded  as  to  fail  to  perceive  what 
everybody  else  perceived ;  whatever  the  reason  was,  I 
blurted  out :  "  Mr.  Stackwood,  I  beg  pardon ;  but  you're 
no  more  feeble-minded  than  I  am.  You're  as  right  as 
anybody.    If  you  don't  mind,  what's  your  game  ?  " 

22.  For  a  minute,  I  thought  I  had  gone  too  far.  Stack- 
wood's  face  darkened.  He  pursed  up  his  mouth  and  his 
fingers  clenched  the  walking  stick  nervously.  But  just  as 
I  was  ready  to  beat  a  retreat,  he  smiled  feebly  and  said: 
"  I  think  I  can  trust  you." 

23.  "  You  certainly  can,"  I  promised. 

24.  He  chafed  his  lower  lip  with  his  teeth.  "  Well, 
then,"  he  said,  "  I  am  all  right.  I  don't  tell  you  because 
I  want  to;  I'm  afraid  if  I  don't  you'll  talk.  Give  me 
your  word  you'll  repeat  to  nobody  in  this  town  what  I  am 
going  to  tell  you." 

25.  I  promised  again,  my  heart  fluttering  in  joyous 
anticipation  of  romance. 

26.  "I  am  all  right,"  he  repeated,  "  though  I  do  live 


26.  Completes  the  opening — central  person,  theme,  and  prob- 
lem are  now  clearly  before  us,  and  the  rest  of  the  narrative,  will 
develop  and  establish  the  satire. — Note  the  irony  of  the  situation 


The  Defective  387 

at  Gould's."  He  stopped  and  took  thought.  "  You 
know,"  he  went  on,  "  if  they  should  find  out,  up  at  the 
Institution,  that  I  was  all  right,  they  wouldn't  let  me  stay 
there.  I'd  be  turned  out  tomorrow,  money  or  no  money." 
He  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm.  "  I  can  trust  you,  can't 
I  ?  "  And  then,  walking  along  at  my  side,  he  told  me  the 
story  that  follows  here. 

27.  Orville  Stackwood  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest 
Massachusetts  families;  rich,  refined,  respectable.  When 
he  was  five  years  old  he  was  sent  to  a  private  school. 
There  was  already  some  doubt  as  to  whether  he  was  a 
normal  child  in  every  respect.  The  report  of  the  private 
school  was  couched  in  the  language  of  diplomacy,  but 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning.  The  child  was  con- 
sidered a  defective. 


— the  specialists  of  the  "  Institution  "  as  blind  as  the  laity  to  the 
more-than-ordinary  saneness  and  intelligence  of  their  "  patient." 
(Ranging  further,  the  alert  reader's  mind  will  of  course  wonder 
how  many  victims  of  such  blindness  our  actual  "  Institutions " 
may  contain — an  illustration  of  the  function  of  fiction  in  stimu- 
lating thought  upon  the  world's  actualities.) 

27.  Note  that,  if  a  few  sentences  indicating  the  nature  of 
"  Gould's  "  were  introduced,  Staekwood's  biography,  with  its  im- 
plications, could  stand  unchanged  as  a  complete,  self-contained 
story,  independent  of  the  first  twenty-six  paragraphs.  But  then 
we  should  not  so  certainly  perceive  the  satire.  It  is  evident,  there- 
fore, that  in  this  story  the  opening  has  a  definite  special  function 
— to  direct  our  attention  to  the  theme,  problem,  and  purpose  of  the 
story  as  a  whole,  since  Staekwood's  biography  would,  by  itself,  not 
quite  attain  the  desired  satirical  impressiveness.    S.  S.  M.,  122-142. 

27-31.  The  plot  is  confined  to  that  part  of  the  narrative  begin- 
ning with  par.  27;  27-31  contain  its  exposition.  Let  the  student 
observe  that  a  well-rounded  story  may  contain  considerable  parts 
outside  of  the  portion  required  for  plot-development. — The 
clouded  mind  of  Staekwood's  childhood  is  necessary  for  plausi- 
bility (S.  S.  M.,  90:9-12),  since  his  presence  at  Gould's  must  be 


388  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

28.  It  was  bitter  poison  for  the  Stackwood  family. 
There  were  three  other  children,  two  boys  and  a  girl,  and 
all  rather  above  the  normal  in  development.  At  least  one 
of  them,  the  oldest,  named  George,  showed  signs  of  bril- 
liancy. The  necessity  of  getting  the  unfortunate  lad  into 
an  institution  where  he  could  be  well  cared  for  naturally 
suggested  itself  to  a  family  with  wide  and  high  social  con- 
nections. Gould's  was  mentioned  by  a  friend ;  Orville 
was  sent  there.  The  family  had  then  done  its  best  for 
him.  Gould's  was  the  highest-priced  institution  of  its 
kind  in  the  country. 

29.  When  the  first  reports  came  in,  the  Stackwood 
father  and  mother  scanned  them  eagerly  for  some  hint  of 
improvement.  They  were  disappointed.  The  reports 
held  out  no  hope.  "  He  makes  no  trouble.  He  is  in  the 
best  of  health.  It  will  be  permitted  that  you  send  him  a 
watch,  if  you  desire,"  After  a  few  years  of  declining 
hopes,  Orville  was  forgotten.  They  could  not  bear  to  see 
him,  so  he  was  really  dead  to  them.  When  the  father  died 
of  apoplexy,  it  was  found  that  he  had  made  in  his  will  a 
provision  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  be 


reasonably  accounted  for.  The  means  adopted  accords  with 
medical  and  psychological  experience,  as  instances  of  minds 
clouded  in  childhood  and  youth,  but  later  clearing  completely  and 
developing  thoroughly,  are  common  enough  not  to  be  exceptional. 
— Without  implying  a  close  parallel,  we  may  note  a  similarity 
(par.  29)  between  the  forgotten  Stackwood  and  the  abandoned 
Smike,  in  Nicholas  Nickleby,  at  least  in  the  pathos  of  discarded 
childhood. — Note  the  recurrence  of  satirical  comment  at  the  close 
of  par.  31.  The  author  does  not  permit  us  to  forget  the  point 
of  his  narrative  although,  on  the  other  hand,  he  nicely  avoids  an 
excess  of  comment  or  insistence  on  it.  The  student  should  run 
through  the  entire  narrative  and  determine  how  many  passages 
of  direct  satirical  emphasis  it  contains. 


The  Defective  389 

held  in  trust  for  the  defective  boy.     A  year  afterward  the 
mother  died.     At  this  time  Orville  was  fourteen  years  old. 

30.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  Orville  began  to  wake  up. 
The  unaccountable  barrier  that  had  dammed  the  natural 
flow  of  his  mentality  slowly  gave  way.  Little  by  little  at 
first  he  learned ;  the  momentum  of  his  capacity  for  learn- 
ing rapidly  increased ;  it  was  thought  well  to  retard  him 
for  his  own  good. 

31.  At  the  age  of  twenty  Orville  could  read  the  news- 
papers, could  figure  accurately,  and  was  as  competent  as 
the  average  citizen  of  Paulham,  though  the  average  citizen 
of  Paulham  might  not  admit  it.  He  was  permitted  the 
freedom  of  the  village,  except  that  he  had  to  return  to  the 
institution  by  five  o-clock  in  the  afternoon.  Having  plenty 
of  money  at  his  disposal,  and  being  of  a  generous  disposi- 
tion, he  got  into  the  habit  of  looking  after  the  wants  of 
certain  needy  families  of  the  town.  This  trait  was  fa- 
vorably commented  on  by  the  townspeople,  though  of 
course  it  strengthened  the  belief  in  his  mental  deficiency. 

32.  One  day  Dr.  Richard  Brownell  came  to  Paulham 
to  spend  a  two  weeks'  vacation  at  the  Mansion  House, 
whose  proprietor  was  an  old  friend.  Orville,  then  a  fre- 
quenter of  the  hotel,  met  the  doctor,  and  they  talked 
together.  When  he  learned  that  the  man  with  whom  he 
had  been  speaking  was  an  inmate  of  Gould's,  Dr.  Brownell 
was  first  astounded  and  then  indignant.  He  knew,  by 
hearsay,  of  Gould's  institution.  And  he  detested  such 
places. 


32.  Generating  eireumstances ;  the  discovery  (S.  S.  M.,  89 :  8)  of 
the  complication  is  produced  in  the  following  paragraphs.  These 
also  provide  the  introduction  to  the  rising-action  stage,  which  we. 
completely  enter  on  in  51, 


390  Today's  Short  Stories  At^alyzed 

33.  These  two  doctors  represented  polarities  in  their 
judgments  of  mental  troubles.  Dr.  Gould  believed,  in  a 
very  broad  wav,  that  all  persons  were  more  or  less  incom- 
petent, and  that,  with  the  possible  exception  of  himself 
and  wife,  they  would  be  better  off  under  institutional  re- 
straint. Dr.  Brownell  utterly  disbelieved  in  such  restraint. 
In  his  eyes  all  were  competent,  only  some  more  competent 
than  others.    He  would  raze  institutions  to  the  ground. 

34.  Dr.  Brownell  took  Orville  Stackwood  aside.  "  What 
are  you  doing  up  at  that  place  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

35.  "  Why,  I've  always  been  there,"  was  the  young 
man's  reply. 

36.  "  Don't  you  know  you're  just  as  capable  as  any- 
body around  here  ?  "  pursued  the  doctor.  "  Yes,  and 
more  so  than  some,"  he  added. 

37.  The  inmate  of  Gould's  was  perplexed.  It  was  the 
first  time  anybody  had  suggested  to  him  that  he  was 
capable.  He  began  to  take  an  interest  in  what  this  black- 
bearded,  energetic  man  was  saying. 

38.  Fact  by  fact,  the  doctor  wormed  the  story  of  his 
incarceration  from  Orville.  From  time  to  time  the  doctor 
pounded  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  bounced  around  upon 
the  seat  of  it,  making  such  explosive  exclamations  as 
"  Damnable  outrage !  "     "  Absolutely  illegal !  "   "  Ought 


34-40.  These  paragraphs  have  eoncenti'ative  effect  (S.  S.  M., 
107:30-34),  showing:  how  a  case  such  as  Staekwood's  would  ap- 
pear to  a  competent  authority,  and  fortifying  our  beUef  in  Stack- 
wood's  "  Tightness." — Though  Dr.  Brownell  is  merely  deus-ex- 
m-achina,  the  author  conceives  for  him  the  "burly  temperament" 
(par.  49  and  passim;  and  see  par.  124,  n.)  that  would  be  needed 
to  overcome  the  obstacles  ond  objections  to  Staekwood's  release — 
another  illustration  of  carefully  considered  management  in  ad- 
justing all  the  elements  to  an  effective  and  unified  motivation* 


The  Defective  391 

to  be  tarred  and  feathered,  by  God !  "  Finally  he  seized 
his  hat,  planted  it  firmly  on  his  head  and  said,  "  I'm  going 
to  whack  you  out  of  that  place  in  about  half  a  jiffy." 

39.  Orville  opened  his  eyes  wide.  He  began  to  believe 
that  this  man  was  in  some  authority.  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

40.  "  Do  ?  Do  ?  I'm  going  to  see  your  people.  And 
then  if  they  don't  do  something,  I'll  kidnap  you." 

41.  His  people !  Orville  Stackwood  did  not  know 
them.  He  knew  only  that  he  had  two  brothers  and  a 
sister,  and  that  they  sent  him  something  every  Christmas. 
The  one  named  George  had  sent  him  a  cane  for  five  Christ- 
mases  running,  and  then,  just  as  Orville  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  could  count  on  a  cane  as  long  as  either  of 
them  lived,  the  gift  changed  to  an  umbrella  and  had  been 
an  umbrella  ever  since.  Thus  Orville  knew  that  George 
was  a  man  with  more  than  one  idea — and  that  was  all  he 
knew  of  George. 

42.  But  the  young  man  was  pleased  with  the  idea  of 
getting  away  from  Gould's.  He  knew  himself  to  be  the 
possessor  of  a  handsome  income,  though  it  was  impossible 
that  he  should  know  the  spending  value  of  money,  since 
he  had  had  so  little  experience.  As  he  had  grown  older, 
the  feeble-minded  persons  around  him  had  begun  to  bore 
him.  But  his  attitude  toward  them  was  not  the  attitude 
of  the  townspeople.     He  said  to  Dr.  Brownell  one  day : 

41.  Observe  the  mentality  inferable  in  George,  a  "  normal " 
member  of  the  family,  as  indicated  by  his  choice  of  gifts;  and 
again  note  the  fight  but  effective  irony  of  the  comment  (closing 
sentence). 

42-43.  More  of  the  non-plot  material  making  us  realize  the 
aeuteness  of  the  "  defective  "  in  comparison  with  the  dullness  of 
"  normal "  persons. 


392  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

43.  "  You  sec,  Doctor,  all  of  the  fellows  and  girls  up 
home  have  their  little  specialty — something  they  can  do 
better  than  most  other  people.  Some  of  them  can  make 
M'onderful  faces,  some  can  pull  carpets  apart  without 
breaking  the  strands,  and  there  is  one  that  fixed  a  hall 
clock,  so  that  it  struck  thirteen.  And  they're  very  easy  to 
get  along  with.  Only  I  get  tired  of  them.  So  I  spend 
most  of  my  time  in  the  village." 

44.  "  Ah,  ha !  "  chuckled  Dr.  Brownell  gleefully.  This 
was  all  grist  for  him,  this  information  about  the  specialists 
at  Gould's.     The  doctor  was  writing  a  book. 

45.  The  upshot  of  it  was  that  Dr.  Brownell  spent  the 
last  three  days  of  his  vacation  interviewing  members  of 
the  Stackwood  family.  They  were  reluctant  to  order  the 
release  of  Orville ;  not  because  they  were  not  overjoyed  to 
learn  how  vastly  he  had  improved ;  not  because  they  would 
not  be  delighted  to  have  him  with  them ;  but  because  of 
that  awful  possibility  that  the  young  man  might  have  a 
relapse  and  do  somebody  harm. 

46.  "Rot!"  said  the  doctor.  "He's  as  harmless  as 
a  dove." 

47.  "  Is  he — er — presentable — you  know  ?  "  asked 
Arthur,  the  second  brother. 

48.  "  He  is  just  as  presentable  as  you  are,"  replied  the 
doctor,  who  was  inclined  to  be  choleric  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  enthusiasms.  Arthur  said  no  more ;  but  he  felt  that 
a  man  of  delicacy  could  have  phrased  the  thing  more 
happily. 

49.  The  burly  temperament  of  the  doctor  conquered  the 

47.  Characterization  achieved  through  manner  and  content  of 
speech,  and  driven  home  by  the  doctor's  response  (48). 

49-50.    Note  the  restraint  and  fairness  of  the  presentation  of 


The  Defective  393 

Stackwoods,  who  had  been  in  the  country  since  1631,  and 
were  not  strong/  They  agreed*to  order  Dr.  Gould  to  send 
Orville  home.  They  hoped  that  Dr.  Gonld  would  demur; 
and  they  hoped  not  in  vain.  Dr.  Gould  demurred  as  only 
a  man  can  demur  who  sees  part  of  his  business  in  danger. 
Orville  was  one  of  the  cornerstones  of  the  institution.  He 
gave  it  tone,  he  gave  it  esteem  and  he  brought  it  money. 
But  the  doctor  capitulated  to  his  enemy  Brownell,  though 
he  never  met  his  enemy. 

50.  It  being  certain  that  Orville  Stackwood  must  leave 
the  institution,  it  became  necessary  to  graduate  him  with 
eclat.  The  doctor  was  not  a  quack;  he  did  not  send  out 
word  that  he  had  effected  a  cure,  as  some  dishonest  spe- 
cialist might  have  done.  He  was  a  sincere  man ;  he  was 
proud  of  his  feeble-minded  charges,  and  he  treated  them 
well.  He  saw  Orville  leave  with  genuine  regret.  He 
shook  hands  and  said,  in  a  low  voice :  "  If  you  should  ever 
feel — uncertain — about  what  you  want  to  do — a  little 
queer — don't  hesitate  to  come  back  to  us,  Orville."  The 
doctor  had  gone  as  far  as  he  professionally  could,  in  say- 
ing that. 

51.  Orville  went  at  once  to  the  home  of  his  brother 
Arthur. 


Dr.  Gould,  indicating  the  author's  concern,  not  with  personal  re- 
sponsibility in  the  sort  of  cases  he  is  dealing  with,  but  with  the 
conditions  themselves.  A  harsh  lampooning  of  Dr.  Gould  would 
have  been  quite  possible,  but  less  effective. — ^  The  attitude  of  the 
common  folk  (villagers)  and  their  traits  have  been  presented 
(ef.  7)  in  comparison  with  those  of  the  "  defective."  Now  we 
shall  have  those  of  the  aristocratic  class. 

51-58.  First  developing  stage.  Cf.  43.  The  episodes  with  the 
relatives  afford  parallels  to  the  conditions  at  Gould's.  There  each 
had  "  his  little  specialty  "  and  (not  being  troubled  with  the  matter 
of  self-support),  plenty  of  time  to  practice  it.    But  these  special- 


394  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

52.  Arthur  Stackwood  had  married,  and  his  home  was 
in  the  best  section  of  Boston.  Strangers  do  not  know 
where  this  section  is ;  but  the  old  families  know,  and  they 
live  there.  The  meeting  between  the  two  brothers  was  a 
Boston  classic.  It  was  refined  and  restrained,  with  no 
awkward  demonstrations.  But  Arthur  was  relieved  to 
find  that  his  long-lost  brother  had  no  physical  imperfec- 
tions ;  that  he  was,  in  brief,  a  well-looking  and  presentable 
person. 

53.  Arthur  had  done  well  by  his  patrimony.  He 
showed  by  his  investments  that  he  had  inherited  his  fa- 
ther's sagacity,  for  they  were  the  very  solidest.  He  did 
not  find  it  necessary  to  employ  himself  in  productive 
labor;  but  a  man  must  needs  throw  himself  into  some 
form  of  action.  Arthur  was  considered  one  of  the  three 
best  bridge  whist  players  in  the  Eastern  States. 

54.  "  Do  you  play  bridge  ?  "  was  one  of  his  first  ques- 
tions of  his  brother. 

55.  Orville  had  heard  of  the  game,  but  it  was  not  in 
vogue  at  Gould's.     He  shook  his  head. 

56.  Arthur  looked  perplexed  for  a  moment.  This  was 
a  contingency — a  social  disability,  in  fact — of  which  he 
had  not  thought.  But  he  brightened  up  after  a  while  and 
said,  "  You'll  have  to  learn."  He  took  Orville  into  the 
library  and  showed  him  his  books  on  bridge.    "  This  is  the 


ties,  though  he  appreciated  them,  bored  Staekwood;  they  lacked 
purpose  and  intrinsic  worth.  So  with  the  occupations  of  his  I'ela- 
tives,  representing-  the  upper  crust.  Yet  these  assumedly  cultured 
and  highly  intelligent  folk  were  as  much  occupied  with  their 
own  "little  specialties"  as  were  the  inmates  of  Gould's.  (Note 
how,  in  this  imiolied  comparison,  the  author's  view  of  life  appears 
and  persuades  us,  without  ever  being  propounded  at  all.) 


The  Defective  395 

best  book  for  the  beginner,"  he  advised,  placing  a  thin 
volume  in  his  brother's  hands. 

57.  Though  an  enthusiast,  Arthur  displayed  the  char- 
acteristic Stackwood  temperateness.  He  never  played 
bridge  before  luncheon.  Mrs.  Arthur  Stackwood  was  one 
of  the  best  women  players  in  the  State.  They  earnestly 
tried  to  do  their  best  for  Orville  Stackwood.  They  con- 
sidered him,  finally,  recalcitrant.  Several  times  Arthur 
came  into  the  library  and  found  Orville  reading  fiction. 
He  was  too  courteous  to  say  anything  abrupt,  but  his  face 
showed  that  he  knew  that  he  was  in  the  thick  of  a  domestic 
problem.     The  situation  gradually  became  untenable. 

58.  The  end  came  when  Orville  failed  to  lead  with  his 
fourth  best  spade  one  evening  in  a  little  informal  affair 
at  the  Stackwood  home. 

59.  Next  day  Orville  went  to  live  with  his  sister. 

60.  Kathryn  Stackwood  had  married  Phillips  Brice, 
of  the  Brices  of  Stonedale.  Xt  was  a  love  match ;  money 
was  no  object  on  either  side.  She  was  a  charming  woman, 
four  years  older  than  Orville;  her  husband  weighed  one 

59-69.  Second  developing  stage  of  the  plot,  affording  another 
parallel  to  the  conditions  at  Gould's.  Observe  the  stature  of  the 
brother-in-law — a  parallel  on  the  physical  side  to  the  imperfec- 
tions commonly  associated  with  defectives.  (The  prevalent  feeling 
that  dwarfs  are  deficient  mentally  is  an  illustration  of  the  tend- 
ency to  infer  inferiority  in  those  who  do  not  meet  conventional 
standards  and  are  as  a  consequence  marked  off  as  "  different." 
Stackwood  had  remained  thus  marked  off  merely  because  of  his 
residence  at  Gould's.  Through  such  quiet  suggestion  of  matters 
of  common  knowledge  the  author  makes  his  story  all  the  more 
plausible  and  enjoyably  persuasive  to  the  thinking  reader.) — Pick 
out  any  instances  of  ironical  exaggeration,  and  account  for  the 
fact  that,  though  recognized  as  exaggerations,  they  nevertheless 
strengthen  the  story.  Is  it  a  matter  of  tone — the  exaggeration 
contributing  to  the  atmosphere  of  satire? 


396  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

hundred  and  twenty  })oiinds,  wore  a  drooping  mustache  and 
collected  postage  stamps.  He  had  the  best  collection  of 
Indo-China  revenue  issues  ever  brought  together  in  the 
United  States.  A  British  collector,  hearing  of  the  Brice 
collection,  had  journeyed  to  this  country  in  a  wheel  chair 
to  see  it,  and  had  died  on  the  way  home — of  a  broken 
heart,  it  is  said.  Mr.  Brice  also  had  a  Canadian  stamp 
without  perforations  on  the  side. 

CI.  Orville  was  well  received  at  his  sister's  house. 
Brice  took  a  strong  fancy  to  him.  Before  the  first  day  was 
over  he  presented  his  brother-in-law  with  a  rare  Bermuda 
stamp,  with  which  to  start  a  collection.  "  But  remember 
to  specialize,"  he  warned  Orville.  "  Most  collectors  fail 
in  trying  to  cover  too  much  ground.  Don't  get  side- 
tracked. I  made  the  mistake  once  of  trying  to  collect  New 
South  Wales  in  addition  to  my  Indo-China.  But  I  saw 
my  mistake  in  time." 

62.  On  one  occasion  Mh  Brice  came  home  in  a  state 
of  pure  intoxication — of  a  non-alcoholic  kind.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  "  he  asked  of  Orville,  laying  a  stamp 
on  the  table  in  front  of  him. 

63.  "  Fine,"  said  Orville.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

64.  "  You  wouldn't  know  at  first,"  was  the  reply. 
"  It's  an  Indo-China,  with  the  gum  on  the  wrong  side.  I 
got  it  from  a  man  that  didn't  know  its  true  value.  It  cost 
me  only  two  hundred  dollars." 

65.  "  Bully  for  you,"  said  Orville,  always  anxious  to 
please. 

66.  Mrs.  Brice  was  not  at  home  much.    She  was  work- 


66-69.  The  second  sub-stage  of  stage  two  in  the  development. 
Observe  yet  again  the  hit  at  the  unthinking  acceptance  of  mere 
external  signs  as  the  basis  of  the  world's  judgments.     In  the  vil- 


The  Defective  397 

ing  for  the  suffrage.  At  first  it  had  pained  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family  to  learn  that  their  sister  was  speaking 
to  variegated  groups  of  persons  on  street  corners,  by  the 
light  of  a  gasoline  torch;  but  when  they  found  out  that 
other  influential  women  were  in  the  movement,  they  said 
no  more.  Brice  never  said  much  about  it.  He  found  it 
best  to  acquiesce  without  words.  He  was  a  kind-hearted, 
generous  little  man,  and  when  asked  to  parade  in  favor 
of  votes  for  women,  he  paraded.  In  one  parade  he  was 
annoyed  by  a  number  of  tomatoes  thrown  from  the  side- 
walk, but  he  suffered  no  complaint  to  escape  him. 

67.  Orville  tried  honestly  to  become  interested  in  the 
life  work  of  his  hosts,  and  resorted  to  cunning  simulations 
of  enthusiasm,  but  without  much  success.  He  was  not 
willing,  however,  to  parade.  There  was  something  stub- 
born about  him.  He  did  not  like  the  idea  of  parading  for 
the  female  ballot,  and  he  said  so. 

68.  Brice  took  Orville  aside  and  stroked  him  on  the 
subject.  He  did  not  want  any  trouble.  He  had  come  to 
like  his  brother-in-law  and  liked  to  have  him  around. 
"  It's  not  an  important  matter,"  he  said.  "  I  parade,  you 
know." 

69.  Orville  became  exasperated.  "  Those  who  wish  to 
parade  may  parade,"  he  replied.     "  I  don't." 

70.  Soon  afterward  he  went  to  live  with  his  brother 
George. 


lage,  anyone  from  "Gould's"  was  not  "quite  right";  in  society, 
anyone  doing  what  others  in  society  do  not  do  is  not  "  quite 
right."  Note  further  that  independence  in  maintaining  one's 
preferences  has  consequences  quite  as  unpleasant  as  it  mig'ht 
among  the  unthinking  of  Gould's. 

70  ff.    Third  developing  stage,  bringing  the  quick  fall  and  the 
outcome. 


398  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

71.  George,  as  Or  villa  knew,  was  the  flower  of  the 
family.  lie  remembered  hearing — just  where  or  when 
he  did  not  Ivuow — that  in  George  Stackwood  the  family 
had  touched  the  heights.  He  had  been  graduated  from 
Harvard  with  honors.  It  was  George  Stackwood  who  had 
tackled  Willstach,  the  Princeton  quarterback,  on  Har- 
vard's five-yard  line,  in  the  last  ten  seconds  of  play. 
Every  year,  since  that  time,  the  papers  printed  his  picture. 

T2.  George  had  not  married,  in  spite  of  his  widely 
known  eligibility.  He  lived  in  a  sumptuous  bachelor 
apartment  house  that  reminded  Orville  of  the  Arabian 
Nights.  Every  improvement  that  had  been  suggested  to 
the  human  mind  toward  the  abolition  of  effort  was  in- 
stalled in  this  house.  It  was  operated  with  buttons.  One 
button  would  procure  more  heat,  another  more  drinks. 
The  heating  arrangements  were  almost  perfect. 

73.  After  a  year  or  two  with  automobiles,  during 
which  he  had  gained  much  publicity  by  driving  a  mile  on 
a  straight  track  in  twenty-six  seconds,  whereas  the  best 
former  amateur  record  had  been  twenty-six  and  one-eighth, 
George  had  now  gone  in  for  aviation ;  and  at  the  time 

71.  Again  we  are  required  to  measure  by  reason,  not  by  com- 
mon acceptance,  the  value  of  achievement.  Here  it  is  merelj'  sug- 
gested, as  is  the  way  in  art.  In  non-artistic  presentation,  the 
thought  might  be  made  clear  to  us  by  direct  proposal  of  a  ques- 
tion— is  it  the  greater  achievement  to  tackle  Willstach  or  to 
devize  (for  example)  an  improvement  making  it  easier  to  insert 
the  paper  in  a  typewriting  machine — and  the  drawings  of  the 
conclusion  that  innumerable  unheard-of  folk  have  far  outdone 
George  in  accomplishment. 

72-73.  Another  instance  in  which  "  nonnal "  conduct  appears 
no  more  logical  than  that  of  defectives;  George  has  every  labor- 
saving  device  he  can  find  to  make  his  life  easy,  then  with  no  par- 
ticular purpose  spends  years  in  the  most  strenuous  and  laborious 
pursuit  of  what  for  him  is  merely  a  sporting  fad. 


The  Defective  399 

his  brother  came  to  live  with  him,  the  sport  was  occupying 
all  his  waking  hours.  He  was,  at  the  moment,  preparing 
to  volplane  with  the  machine  flying  upside  down.  In  avia- 
tion circles  it  was  generally  admitted  that  the  success  of 
this  experiment  would  mean  much  to  science. 

Y4.  "  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,"  was  the  hearty 
greeting  of  George.  "  You  probably  know  I'm  all  tied  up 
with  flying,  but  I  want  you  to  make  yourself  just  as  much 
at  home  as  though  you'd  always  been  here." 

75.  "  Thank  you,"  replied  Orville  gratefully. 

76.  "  Tomorrow  I'll  take  you  out  to  my  hangar,"  he 
added.  Then  he  explained,  seeing  that  the  word  was  new 
to  his  brother :  "  The  place  where  I  keep  my  birds." 

77.  "  I'd  like  to  see  it,"  said  Orville. 

78.  '"  Then,  next  week  some  time,"  went  on  the  avi- 
ator, as  though  determined  to  carry  hospitality  and  family 
loyalty  to  the  highest  point,  "  I'll  take  you  for  a  ride  in 
my  new  biplane." 

79.  "Me?"  asked  Orville. 

80.  "  Certainly.  There's  room  for  a  passenger.  To 
tell  the  truth,  Orville,  I'm  mighty  glad  you've  come.  I've 
been  wanting  to  try  out  some  little  ideas  of  mine  about 
carrying  passengers,  and  you're  the  very  one  to  help  me." 

81.  "  Are  these  ideas — er — new  ones  ?  "  asked  Orville, 
after  a  little  hesitation. 

82.  "  Comparatively,"  replied  the  brother,  suppressing 
an  honest  pride. 

83.  Orville  shuddered;  his  brother  did  not  observe  it. 
"  I'll  make  a  regular  J.  K.  Burke  of  you,"  said  George 
with  a  smile. 


82.    As  proud  of  them  as  an  inmate  of  Gould's  might  be  over 
one  of  his  aeeomphshments. 


400  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

84.  "  Who  was  J.  K.  Burke  ?  "  asked  Orville. 

85.  "  Never  heard  of  him  ?  One  of  the  greatest  avi- 
ators that  ever  lived.  Was  killed  at  Moscow  last  July. 
Fell  four  thousand  feet." 

86.  "  I  should  prefer  to  be  like  you,  George,"  said 
Orville  naively.     "  You're  still  alive." 

87.  George  laughed  heartily.  "  Good !  "  he  cried,  clap- 
ping Orville  on  the  back.     "  I'll  tell  that  at  the  club." 

88.  Next  day  Orville  went  out  to  the  aviation  grounds 
with  his  brother.  From  beginning  to  end  he  felt  like  a 
man  struggling  to  awake  from  a  dream;  fighting  to  push 
away  the  veil  of  unreality  and  come  back  to  the  earth  he 
knew — the  earth  of  Dr.  Gould's  institution  with  its  hun- 
dred inmates,  all  specialists. 

89.  These  specialists  of  aviation,  clothed  in  fantastic 
garb,  were  tinkering  with  their  great  flyers ;  speeding  them 
along  upon  their  bicycle  wheels;  leaping  oif  into  the  air; 
skittering  down  the  course  about  fifteen  feet  from  the 
ground ;  sailing  away  into  the  blue  heavens  above.  And 
all  this  with  the  same  nonchalance  with  which  Orville  had 


85-87.  Observe  George's  level  of  intellectual  appreciation,  as 
indicated  by  what  he  thinks  a  masterpiece  of  humorous  repartee. 
Cf.  41. 

88-89.  Considered  as  an  amusement  (and  these  are  hobby- 
driving  aviators,  we  must  remember),  flying  could  not  appear  as 
sensible  as  the  diversions  of  the  imbeciles,  since  it  continually  im- 
perils limb  and  life;  hence  Stackwood's  inability  to  understand 
the  "specialty."  (We  ai'e  to  remember  that  Stackwood  comes 
to  the  outer  world  with  a  keen  mind,  but  without  any  conven- 
tional preparation  for  accepting  its  practices ;  his  point  of  view 
is  unwarped  by  previous  familiarity  with  any  prejudice,  either 
for  or  against.  Herein  is  one  element  of  strength  in  the  satire. 
In  such  wise  authors  at  times  have  our  society  viewed  through 
the  eyes  of  a  visitor  from  another  planet.) 


The  Defective  401 

walked  down  the  main  street  of  Paulliam,  swinging  his 
stick.  The  visitor  expected  to  see  somebody  killed  that 
afternoon,  but  nobody  so  much  as  had  his  clothing  dam- 
aged. Still  Orville  had  an  unpleasant  mental  picture,  that 
gradually  grew  into  an  obsession,  of  J.  K.  Burke  falling 
four  thousand  feet  at  Moscow.  The  more  he  thought  of 
the  sport,  the  less  he  liked  it. 

90.  Several  nights  afterward  George  said :  "  Tomorrow, 
if  it  isn't  too  windy,  we'll  try  out  some  of  those  little  ideas 
of  mine." 

91.  "  Tomorrow,"  repeated  Orville,'  growing  cold. 

92.  "  Yes,  about  half  past  one,  if  you  don't  mind.  I 
wish  you'd  come  right  out  to  the  hangar,  if  you  shouldn't 
hear  from  me.  .  .  .  And,  by  the  way,  Orville,  I've  been 
planning  a  little  surprise  for  you.  There's  a  young  lady 
I  want  you  to  meet.  She's  just  the — well,  you  can  judge 
for  yourself.  I  don't  want  to  advise  anybody.  But  you'll 
like  her.  Her  name  is  Williamson — Alice  Williamson — 
college  girl — up  to  date — Gibson  type,  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  want  to  take  you  around  tomorrow  night,  after 
we  finish  our  afternoon's  sport." 

93.  Orville  showed  a  natural  interest.    "  That's  mighty 


92.  See  7  and  49-50.  The  type-persons  or  the  classes  heretofore 
introduced  are  the  village-bourgeoisie  (hotel  clerk) ;  Dr.  Gould, 
"  mental  pathologist " ;  Dr.  Brownell,  scientist ;  Arthur,  a  Bos- 
tonese  first-family  type  and  his  group;  Kathryn,  the  suffragette- 
society  woman  and  her  hen-peeked  stamp-collector;  George,  the 
luxurious,  bachelor  and  flying-faddist.  Now  we  have  presented 
in  absentia  the  college-girl  modernist.  In  every  one  of  these  we 
are  made  to  realize  an  element  of  stupidity,  ignorance,  and  intol- 
erance quite  as  unpleasant,  and  of  no  higher  quality,  than  that 
which  we  should  meet  at  Gould's.  Thus  by  swift  marshaling, 
characterization,  and  portrayal,  the  author  gives  us  a  sweeping 
social  view. 


402  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

good  of  yon,"  he  said.     Then  he  sat  in  deep  thonght  for 
a  moment.     "  Does  she  play  bridge  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

94.  "  Bully  little  player,  I  understand." 

95,  A  faint  tinge  of  red  came  into  Orville's  cheeks. 
9G.    "  She — do  you  think  she's  interested  in  the — cr — 

suffrage,  George  ?  " 

97.  "  Well,  I  should  say  so.  She's  been  in  court  twice 
for  obstructing  traffic,"  replied  George  enthusiastically. 

98.  Orville  gulped.  "  Maybe,"  he  said,  "  she  collects 
postage  stamps  ?  " 

99.  "  I  don't  think  so,"  said  George.  "  But  I  heard 
somebody  say  she's  interested  in  very  old  sugarbowls.  By 
gracious,  she's  just  the  girl  for  you,  do  you  know !  " 

100.  Orville  rose  from  his  chair  and  came  over  to  his 
brother.  His  eyes  were  full  of  resignation ;  his  cheeks, 
from  having  been  flushed,  bad  now  gone  pale.  "  You 
want  me  to  be  at  the  hangars  at  one  thirty  tomorrow, 
George  ?  " 

101.  "  Yes,  if  you  will." 

102.  "  I'll  be  there,"  said  Orville,  extending  a  hand. 

103.  "  Good  for  you,"  replied  George. 

104.  Orville  kept  his  word.  The  next  afternoon  he 
was  on  hand  promptly.  He  had  thought  it  all  over  the 
night  before,  and  decided  that  it  didn't  make  much  dif- 
ference anyway.  So  far  as  he  could  see,  the  intense  spe- 
cialization of  the  life  into  which  he  had  entered  was  not 
likely  ever  to  prove  attractive  to  him.  He  had  put  his 
small  affairs  in  order,  laid  out  clean  linen  for  the  morrow, 
and  had  then  peacefully  gone  to  sleep. 


100-102.    Cf.  n.  59-69,  closing  part. 

104.    "  Intense  specialization."     Cf.  par.  43,     The  parallel  is 
again  brought  to  our  attention. 


The  Defective  403 

105.  George  wanted  Orville  to  don  an  aviation  cos- 
tume, but  the  latter  refused.  He  did  not  have  any  special 
reason  for  refusing ;  simply  he  did  not  fancy  the  idea.  He 
had  no  great  sensation  as  he  clambered  into  the  seat  behind 
his  brother.  Whatever  he  had  had  of  fear  had  resolved 
itself  into  curiosity.  Besides,  he  had  a  plan.  The  plan 
was  to  be  executed  in  case  the  aviation  experiments  did 
not  prove  immediately  fatal,  as  they  had  in  the  case  of 
J.  K.  Burke,  in  Moscow. 

106.  The  biplane  was  got  into  position  on  the  cinder 
track  in  front  of  the  hangars,  and  all  was  in  readiness. 
The  engine  started.  There  was  a  swishing  of  air  behind ; 
the  machine  began  to  move  along  the  ground  slowly. 
"  Ready  ?  "  asked  George. 

107.  Orville  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

108.  Suddenly  the  speed  was  accelerated,  and  then, 
with  no  perceptible  strain,  Orville  felt  himself  lifted  into 
the  air.  He  looked  down  quickly  and  saw  the  cinder  path 
dropping  out  from  under  him.  Something  heavy  was  laid 
upon  his  stomach,  and  at  the  same  time  his  breath  began 
to  come  in  small  gusts.  In  another  moment  they  were 
speeding  along,  not  more  than  iifty  feet  from  the  ground. 
They  circled  the  field  a  couple  of  times,  and  then  alighted 
without  a  jar.  "  She's  working  beautifully,"  was  George's 
comment.  "  Now  where  would  you  like  to  go — any  par- 
ticular place  ?  " 


105.  Staekwood's  sensations  afford  us  the  jv;dgment  of  one  not 
artificially  stimulated  with  enthusiasm  for  the  "  game."  Cf.  88-89. 
The  sensations  mentioned  in  the  following  paragraphs,  being  more 
or  less  unpleasant,  contribute  mildly  to  the  suggestion  that  this 
is  a  queer  sort  of  thing  for  a  man  who  is  "  quite  right "  to  turn 
to  for  amusement.     Stackwood,  we  remember,  liked  to  read. 


404  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

109.  '"  I'd  like  to  go  out  Paiilham  way,"  was  the  ready 
reply. 

110.  "Out    Paulham    way?      I    should    think " 

George  got  as  far  as  that  when  he  caught  himself.  He  has- 
tened to  add :  "  All  right.  But  I'm  not  sure  of  the 
direction." 

111.  "  It's  on  the  line  of  the  B.  C.  &  M.,  you  know," 
suggested  Orville. 

112.  "Oh,  yes,  I  know — just  beyond  the  Templeport 
Inn." 

113.  Orville  nodded.  "I'd  like  to  see  what  it  looks 
like  around  there  from  above,"  he  explained. 

114.  In  a  few  moments  they  were  off.  The  biplane 
ascended  to  a  height  of  two  hundred  feet,  and  skimmed 
along  smoothly  at  that  altitude  for  several  miles.  George 
turned  his  head,  and  his  brother  leaned  close  to  catch  the 
words.     "  We'll  go  up  a  little,  eh  ?  " 

115.  Orville,  at  the  moment,  had  a  vision  of  the  young 
woman  that  played  bridge,  obstructed  traffic,  and  collected 
old  sugarbowls.  "  Good !  "  he  cried  in  reply.  And  they 
soared  upward. 

116.  Suddenly  Orville  bawled,  joyously:  "  I  see  it!  I 
see  the  Institution !  "  George  did  not  hear.  His  brother 
touched  him  on  the  arm  and  pointed  to  a  cluster  of  build- 
ings topping  a  hill  to  their  right.  "  Over  there  I  used  to 
live,"  said  Orville  shamelessly. 


115.  Humorous  exaggeration;  cf.  100-102,  n. 

116.  "  Joyously."  The  implication  is  tliat  a  reasonable,  intelli- 
gent man  may  find  life  less  trying  and  futile  as  it  is  lived  among 
the  defectives  than  as  it  is  among  some  of  our  "  normal "  classes. 
Pars.  117-118  intensify  the  emphasis  on  the  point  j  he  is  making 
bis  escape  as  fast  as  he  can. 


The  Defective  405 

117.  Mademoiselle  Chance  played  the  next  card.  The 
engine  began  to  miss  explosions,  and  George,  selecting  a 
level  open  field,  came  down  to  earth  to  make  an  examina- 
tion. As  the  biplane  stopped  moving,  Orville  sprang  out 
and  began  to  run.  He  heard  his  brother  cry,  "  Where  are 
you  going  ?  "  but  he  paid  no  attention.  There  was  a 
clump  of  woods  on  the  edge  of  the  field,  and  he  made  for 
the  trees.  Once  out  of  sight,  he  began  to  walk,  but  he 
walked  rapidly. 

118.  Twice  he  lost  his  direction,  and  stumbled  aim- 
lessly around  in  the  forest,  his  clothing  suffering  from  the 
bushes  that  reached  out  upon  him.  A  low-hanging  limb 
caught  his  hat  and  retained  it.  He  went  on  without  it. 
When  he  came  out  at  last  upon  a  highway,  he  recognized 
it  as  a  little-traveled  road  that  went  up  through  Leesville, 
to  Paulham. 

119.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  Orville  entered  the  out- 
skirts of  Paulham.  Kerosene  eyes  were  beginning  to 
wink  in  the  houses  ahead  of  him.  Half  an  hour  later  he 
entered  the  beautiful  grounds  of  the  Institution.  He  went 
straight  to  the  house  of  Dr.  Gould,  ran  up  the  steps  lightly 
and  rang.  He  saw  the  doctor  himself  rise  and  come 
toward  the  door. 

120.  When  the  door  opened  the  two  men  regarded  each 
other  swiftly.  Orville's  clothes,  which  had  been  new  the 
week  before,  were  rumpled  and  torn;  he  was  hatless,  and 
there  were  spots  of  dried  blood  on  his  face,  where  the 
bushes  had  scratched  him.  But  there  was  a  radiant  smile 
on  his  face. 

121.  "  I'm  back.  Doctor!  "  he  cried. 

122.  "  Orville  Stackwood !  What's  the  matter  ?  How 
did  you  get  here  l  " 


406  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

123.  "  In  an  aeroplane,"  replied  Orville. 

124.  The  doctor  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  An  aero- 
plane ?  "  he  repeated.  Then  he  shook  his  head  slightly. 
He  took  Orville's  hand  gently  in  his  own  and  murmured : 
"  Poor  boy !     I  thought  you'd  come  back!  " 


124.  Dr.  Gould,  consistent  to  the  last,  thinks  Staekwood  is  "  not 
quite  right."  Wlierein  he  was  like  all  the  folk  outside.  The 
satire  of  the  story  attains  its  acme  in  the  unconscious  significance 
of  his  remark  as  a  comment  on  the  outside  world — "  I  thought 
you'd  come  back !  "  The  "  defective "  is  of  course,  from  the 
viewpoint  of  the  satire,  the  nearest  "  right "  of  all  those  whom  we 
have  been  shown — for  even  Dr.  Brownell,  though  "  right "  intel- 
lectually, had  a  defect  of  temperament  more  serious  than  that 
quietist  defect  observable  in  Staekwood. 


THAT  HAHNHEIMER  STORY 

The  Stoky  as  a  Whole 

1.  Subjective  coloring  (atmosphere)  is  strong,  as  a 
manifest  purpose  of  the  story  is,  to  satirize  the  type  of 
mentality  and  personality  found  in  yellow  yellow-jour- 
nalism. 

2.  The  atmosphere  is  attained  through  action  and  char- 
acterization, but  these  are  (apparently  as  the  result  of  a 
mingling  of  humor  and  satire  in  the  writer's  mood)  exag- 
gerated, at  times  so  much  so  as  to  approach  farcical 
burlesque. 

3.  There  is  no  central  person.  In  effect,  our  attention 
is  concentrated  mainly  on  the  fantastic  group  of  editors 
and  newsmen  in  the  Nation  office.  Singleton  may  be 
called  (to  coin  a  term)  the  effective  person  in  the  action; 
but  Singleton  is  not  primarily  the  object  of  our  attention. 
He  constitutes  the  foil  (S.  S.  M.,  69)  to  the  group  of 
"  yellows."  Consequently,  this  story  presents  a  plot  in 
which  the  effective  action  is  carried  on  by  the  foil,  while 
the  persons  meant  to  be  portrayed  are  subsidiary  actors 
in  the  plot  events. 

4.  The  story,  owing  to  the  prominence  of  a  particular 
purpose  in  it  (n.  1  above),  well  illustrates  our  definition 
of  motif — the  basic  theme  and  purpose  of  the  conte,  taken 
together  (S.  S.  M.,  96).  The  basic  thought  of  the  story 
is,  that  yellow  journalism  is  undignified  and  unworthy ;  its 
basic  purpose  is,  to  show  this  forth  by  presenting  yellow 
methods  in  contrast  with  less  sensational  procedure. 

407 


408  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

5.  Notwithstanding  its  exaggeration,  the  story  may 
loosely  be  taken  as  representative  of  conditions  in  certain 
large  newspaper  offices.  A  sprinkling  of  newspaper  terms 
and  other  details  belonging  to  newspaper  work  gives  the 
effect  of  local  color  and  increases  the  verisimilitude. 

G.  As  is  often  so  in  fiction-writing  animated  with 
knowledge  of  the  subject  and  a  clear  sense  of  the  spirit  of 
the  situation,  the  narration  and  the  style  are  themselves 
expressive  of  the  subject,  atmosphere  and  mood.  Note  the 
rushing  description  and  the  recounting  of  incident  and  act 
in  the  most  compact  and  hurried  language — the  manner  of 
the  reporter  seizing  on  the  vital  facts  and  putting  his 
"  story  "  through  under  pressure  to  "  go  up  "  in  time  for 
the  next  edition.  Emphatically,  this  is  throughout  a  nar- 
rative of  high  lights  and  bold  outlines,  a  newspaper  story 
in  newspaper  method  and  style. 


THAT  HAHNHEIMEK  STORY 
By  Akthuk  James  Pegler 

Reprinted   from  "Adventure,"   for   March,    1914,   by   the   courteous 

permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author. 

(Copyrighted,  1914,  by  the  Ridgway  Company.) 

1.  The  elevator  had  landed  young  Singleton  in  a  little 
receiving-pen,  not  unlike  a  sheep  chute,  the  wooden  walls 
of  which  extended  half  way  to  the  ceiling.  Facing  him 
was  a  door  with  a  ground  glass  upper  panel,  upon  which 
was  inscribed  the  laconic  admonition — 

KEEP  OUT 

2.  Beyond  the  flimsy  little  coop  there  arose  a  din  com- 
parable to  that  associated  in  the  ordinary  mind  with  a 
boiler  riveting  job  under  a  half  dozen  vituperative  gang 
bosses. 

3.  "  Who  d'ja  want  ?  " 

4.  Singleton  observed,  standing  in  the  half  opened  door, 
a  wizen-faced  youth  of  truculent  air  and  pale,  soiled 
visage,  with  a  cast  in  his  off  eye  that  gave  him  a  singularly 
saturnine  expression. 

5.  "  Say,  you,  who  d'ja  want  ?  "  repeated  the  youth  in 
an  exasperated  tone.  Through  the  doorway,  Singleton 
saw  coatless  men  rushing  here  and  there,  apparently  in 
panic. 

6.  "  What  place  is  this  ?  "  shouted  Singleton,  at  last. 
One  needs  must  adapt  one's  self  to  circumstances.  So 
Singleton  shouted. 

409 


410  Today's  Short  Stories  Anatltzed 

7.  "  Ev'n'n  Naiion,"  shrieked  the  crosseyed  youth,  in 
a  frenzy  of  impatience.  "Who  d'ja  want?  Who  d'ja 
want  ?     Cough  it  up  !  " 

8.  "  Jumping  Moses !  "  ejaculated  young  Mr.  Singleton. 

9.  "  Managin'  editor/'  howled  the  boy  in  the  door. 
"  Gi'  me  y'r  monicker." 

10.  Singleton  snapped  a  card  into  the  grimy  paw  of 
the  impatient  emissary,  who  fled. 

11.  Sitting  on  a  little  bench  at  one  side  of  this  annex 
to  Bedlam,  the  visitor  drew  off  his  gloves,  trying  mean- 
while to  differentiate  the  sounds  that  emerged  in  endless 
variety  and  volume  from  behind  the  partition. 

12.  "  Fifty  dead  in  C.  &  D.  W.  wreck,"  roared  a  voice. 
"  Front  page,  first  column,  layout,  diagram.  Hey !  Get 
some  men  out  on  that,  Mr.  Bickerdyke.  Get  'em  out,  get 
'em  out,  get  'em  out !  " 

13.  "  Fifty  dead — layout — diagram — gotcha,  Steve — 
yow — w — w,  Smithers !  "  called  another  man  in  a  sing- 
song voice,  adding  in  sharper  tones : 

14.  "  Twenty-five  minutes  to  the  deadline.  Hi,  you 
Finklestein,  come  on  with  that  new  lead  suicide.  What 
d'ja  think  this  is,  a  weekly  ?  " 

15.  "  Lead  gone  across,"  came  another  voice,  presuma- 
bly that  of  Finklestein.     "  Go-o-ne  across,"  he  wailed. 

16.  Then  this  from  a  basso  prof  undo: 

17.  "  Jones,  Taylor,  Wilson,  Briggs.  Wake  up, 
you  cripples.  First  train  C.  &  D.  W.  wreck.  Beat 
it!" 

18.  A  rush  of  men,  pulling  on  coats  and  jamming  hats 
on  their  heads,  passed  Singleton  en  route  to  the  elevator. 
They  were  hard-bitten,  driven,  desperate,  but  withal  com- 
petent-looking rufiians. 


That  Hahnheimer  Stoey  411 

19.  Rose  above  the  clamor  another  order: 

20.  "Ho-o-o!     Dark  room!     What  the Ho-o-o! 

Dark  room  !     Why  doncha  answer  this  tube  ? W^hat  ? 

Don't  argue;  listen.  Two  men,  cameras,  first  train  C.  & 
D.  W.  Dodgeville — wreck — fifty  killed — you'll  have  to 
hurry.     Boy !     Ho,  copy  bo-o-o-y !  " 

21.  "  Glad  I  came,"  thought  Singleton.  "  Promises 
new  experience." 

22.  Saturday  afternoon  brought  a  crisis  in  the  affairs 
of  the  evening  and  Sunday  Nation.  On  that  day,  the 
evening  paper  men,  after  putting  their  own  last  edition  to 
bed,  were  reenforced  by  the  staff  of  the  morning  Investi- 
gator, published  under  the  same  ownership  a  few  doors 
down  the  street,  and  thereafter,  until  two  o'clock  Sun- 
day morning,  eleven  editors,  twenty  reporters,  nine  spe- 
cial writers,  twenty-two  telegraph  operators,  ten  sporting 
writers,  thirteen  office  boys  and  a  dozen  raucous-voiced 
copy  readers  vied  with  each  other  in  efforts  to  be  heard 
above  the  clamor  without  which  it  is,  of  course,  impossible 
to  publish  a  real  yellow  newspaper. 

23.  The  man  who  first  wrote  "  pandemonium  reigned  " 
had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  Nation  office  on  a 
Saturday  afternoon. 

24.  "  Mose  won't  see  ya." 

25.  The  crosseyed  youth  communicated  this  laconic  bit 
of  information  as  he  emerged  with  a  rush  and  a  slide  from 
the  glass-paneled  door. 

26.  Singleton  silently  handed  the  youthful  caricature  a 
dollar  bill. 

27.  "  Wha'  fur  ?  "  inquired  the  youth,  fingering  the 
money. 


412  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

28.  "  Information,"  answered  Singleton,  suavely. 
"  Who's  Mose  ?  " 

29.  "  Managin'  editor,"  jerked  the  somewhat  mollified 
emissary.  "  Jumpin'  Moses,"  he  added.  "  You  asked  for 
him,  didn't  cha «  " 

30.  "Kighto,  so  I  did,"  replied  Singleton.  "Hit  it 
the  first  time,  didn't  I  ?  Now  what  did  Mr. — ah — Moses 
say,  when  you  gave  him  my  card  ?  " 

31.  "  Said  for  you  to  go  to Say !     Are  you  a 

friend  o'  his  ?  " 

32.  "  Bosom,"  declared  Singleton.  "  Just  like  broth- 
ers." 

33.  "Well,"  croaked  the  boy,  "he'll  fire  me  if  he 
wants  to  see  ya.     Say,  you  go  right  in.    He's  sittin'  at  the 

big  desk  over  there  to  the  left Here,  mister,  this  way. 

See  him  ?  Fat  guy,  sweatin'  and  pullin'  at  his  front  hair. 
That's  him,  mister.  If  he  gets  sore,  tell  him  I  give  ya  the 
right  dope.     That'll  let  me  out,  see  ?  " 

34.  Singleton  found  himself  in  the  local  room  of  the 
Evening  Nation.  It  was  a  huge  loft,  eighty  feet  long  by 
forty  wide.  In  one  corner — the  one  nearest  the  fire-escape 
— a  little  coop  had  been  erected  as  a  seemingly  reluctant 
concession  to  the  dignity  supposed  to  hedge  an  editor-in- 
chief.  At  this  moment  the  chief  editor  was  not  occupying 
it.  On  the  contrary,  he  stood  with  shirtsleeves  rolled 
above  his  elbows  directly  in  front  of  the  managing  editor, 
to  whom  he  was  uttering  contemptuous  remarks  concern- 
ing an  exceedingly  disheveled  manuscript,  holding  the 
offending  pages  in  his  left  hand  and  slapping  them  with 
his  right.  Singleton's  boy  friend  informed  him  in  an  awe- 
stricken  tone  that  the  indignant  gentleman  was  none  other 


That  Hahnheimer  Stokt  413 

than    Mr.    Vest,    "  the    greatest    editor    in    the    world." 

35.  The  object  of  Mr.  Vest's  immediate  displeasure  was 
Mr.  Moses  Herengoetz,  more  or  less  affectionately  known 
as  "  Jumping  Moses,"  or  "  the  Colossus  of  Dusty 
Eoads." 

36.  The  city  editor  and  the  assistant  city  editor, 
Messrs.  Bickerdyke  and  Sooner,  a  pair  of  luckless  wights, 
perpetually  ground  between  the  revolving  millstones  of 
Mr.  Vest's  and  Mr.  Herengoetz's  conflicting  editorial  poli- 
cies, occupied  desks  uncomfortably  adjacent  to  that  of  the 
latter  gentleman. 

37.  "  Horsefly !  "  snapped  Mr.  Vest.  "  Horsefly !  "  he 
reiterated  in  a  tone  expressive  of  the  limit  in  exasperation, 
rolling  the  offending  manuscript  into  a  ball  and  tossing  it 
aside  contemptuously.  ''  That's  what  I  say,  Mr.  Heren- 
goetz— horsefly !  " 

38.  With  that  Mr.  Vest,  turning  on  an  indignant  heel, 
entered  his  coop  and,  lighting  a  cigarette,  puffed  it  furi- 
ously. Mr.  Herengoetz  stood  for  a  reflective  moment,  pull- 
ing at  his  convenient  forelock,  his  neck  muscles  swelling 
under  the  strain  of  repressed  emotion.  Then  he  turned 
with  a  shrug  of  his  massive  shoulders  and  emitted  one 
awesome  bellow. 

39.  "Bo-o-o-y!"  he  shouted.  "  Ho-o-o-o,  bo-o-o-y!  " 
and  the  spell  was  broken.  Mr.  Herengoetz,  when  in  doubt 
or  distress,  invariably  yelled,  "  Bo-o-o-y !  "  It  was  his 
method  of  letting  off  steam,  of  affording  a  vent  for  his 
pent-up  feelings. 

40.  Eleven  boys  fell  over  each  other  in  response  to  Mr. 
Herengoetz's  call  for  help,  but,  although  the  response  was 
prompt,  Mr.  Herengoetz  had  already  forgotten  what  he 
wanted  the  boy  for,  whereupon  one  of  the  rewrite  men  sit- 


414  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ting  nearest  to  Singleton  remarked  that  the  Colossus  was 
"  running  true  to  form."  With  this  assurance  the  demoniac 
band  resumed  its  clamor,  while  Singleton,  under  cover  of 
the  confusion,  made  his  way  to  that  side  of  the  managing 
editor's  desk  which  appeared  to  afford  the  clearest  avenue 
of  retreat  in  the  event  of  emergency. 

41.  Mr.  Herengoetz  was  leaning  over  his  desk  in  an 
attitude  typifying  mental  concentration.  Under  his  left 
hand  was  a  pad  of  copy  paper  and  in  his  right  was  a  stub 
of  pencil.  From  time  to  time  he  jerked  loose,  crumpled 
and  peevishly  discarded  pages,  scrawled  with  such  legends 
as: 

Banker  Botts  Breaks  Jail  Bonds 
Bank  Cashier  Botts  Gets  Freedom 
Botts  Breaks  Bonds  Freed  by  Writ 

42.  Mr.  Herengoetz  was  writing  a  ribbon  strip — one  of 
those  startling  black  lines  across  the  top  of  page  one,  just 
above  the  red  lettering,  that  give  the  evening  and  Sunday 
Nations  front  page  the  exciting  aspect  of  a  man  with  his 
throat  cut  shrieking  for  help. 

43.  Having  at  last  constructed  a  line  that  appealed  to 
his  esthetic  sense,  the  managing  editor  stood  up,  twisted 
violently  at  his  straggling  forelock,  and  stared  at  Single- 
ton with  an  expression  in  which  there  seemed  mingled 
astonishment  and  disgust. 

44.  "  Good  afternoon,"  ventured  Singleton.  "  What 
is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Herengoetz,  his  pale,  plump 
visage  distorted  in  nervous  irritation.  "  Well,  what  do 
you  want  ?  " 

45.  Coatless  and  collarless,  his  small  eyes  gleaming  like 


That  Hahnheimee  Stoey  415 

those  of  an  enraged  rogue  elephant,  the  Colossus  did  not 
invite  confidence.  His  large  body,  heterogeneously  assem- 
bled, like  that  of  a  hippopotamus,  quivered  visibly. 

46.  "  Work,"  said  Singleton.  "  I  came  up  here  look- 
ing for  work,  sir." 

47.  "  Work  ?  "  Mr.  Herengoetz  repeated  the  word  as 
if  Singleton's  use  of  it  had  been  an  inconceivable  piece  of 
presumption.  "  Work  ?  Then  why  don't  you  hang  up 
your  coat  and  hat  ?  " 

48.  Mr.  Herengoetz  snorted  as  if  the  question  could 
not  by  any  human  possibility  be  satisfactorily 
answered. 

49.  "  But  you  don't  understand,  sir,"  began  Singleton. 

50.  "  Don't  argue,"  roared  the  managing  editor.  "  No 
time  for  argument.     Hang  'em  up,  hang  'em  up." 

51.  In  this  maelstrom  of  humanity  there  appeared  for 
the  moment,  for  a  new  man  on  the  job,  no  more  impor- 
tant task  than  that  of  keeping  out  of  other  men's  way,  and 
even  that  demanded  surprising  agility. 

52.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  Mr.  Herengoetz  to  appear 
in  the  role  of  critic  and  inquisitor.  With  an  exclamation 
of  rage  and  horror  he  leaped  from  his  swivel  chair,  waving 
in  his  left  hand  a  proof  slip. 

53.  "  Damnable !  "  shrieked  Mr.  Herengoetz.  ''  For 
the  love  of  Mike,  Mr.  Bickerdyke,  why  can't  I  occasionally 
get  something  written  in  English  ?     What  is  this  ?  " 

54.  He  shook  the  offending  proof  before  the  face  of 
the  city  editor.  "  I  repeat,  in  the  name  of  the  Prophet, 
what  is  it  ?  " 

55.  Mr.  Bickerdyke,  diplomatically  non-committal,  took 
the  proffered  slip.     He  examined  it  closely,  described  sev- 


410  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

oral  circles  around  his  chair,  a  curious  mannerism 
characteristic  of  him,  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  his 
voice : 

56.  "Finnerty!     Ho-o-o,  Mr.  Finnerty !  " 

57.  "  What's  eating  you  ?  "  inquired  one  of  the  rewrite 
men,  who  presumed  to  wax  familiar  with  the  gods,  being 
a  star.  Mr.  Finnerty  possessed  a  directly  forceful  habit 
of  speech  and  a  Kerry  brogue. 

58.  "What's  this?"  demanded  Mr.  Bickerdyke,  shak- 
ing the  offending  proof  in  turn.  "  It's  supposed  to  be  your 
now  lead  to  the  bank  story  and  there  isn't  a  punch  in  it 
anywhere." 

59.  "  Writen  as  ordered,"  snapped  Finnerty,  glower- 
ing.    "  Ask  Mr.  Vest ;  he  dictated  it." 

60.  "  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Bickerdyke. 

61.  "  Oh,"  echoed  Mr.  Herengoetz. 

62.  "  Want  it  in  Yiddish  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Finnerty 
truculently,  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Herengoetz,  but  the 
latter  treated  the  suggestion  with  contempt  and  vouch- 
safed no  reply. 

63.  Suddenly  Mr.  Bickerdyke  was  seized  with  an  idea. 
The  fact  became  evident  when  the  city  editor  picked  up  a 
newspaper  clipping  about  an  inch  long  from  his  desk,  and 
after  glaring  at  it  for  a  moment  resumed  his  extraordinary 
pas  de  seul.  Mr.  Bickerdyke's  little  peculiarity  had  won 
for  him  the  sobriquet  of  "  the  Whirling  Dervish." 

64.  Each  circle  described  by  Mr.  Bickerdyke  being  a 
little  wider  than  the  last,  he  gradually  drew  near  to  the 
spot  where  Singleton  was  standing,  a  fascinated  spec- 
tator. 

65.  On  his  third  lap,  Mr,  Bickerdyke  executed  a  sud- 
den flank  movement  and  confronted  the  new  man.    In  his 


That  Hahnheimer  Stoey  41'7 

eyes  there  shone  the  light  of  purpose.     With  a  nervous 
gesture  he  poked  the  clipping  into  Singleton's  hand. 
66.    "  Kead  that !  "  he  commanded. 

6Y.  Singleton  glanced  through  the  paragraph.  It  was 
an  announcement  taken  from  the  body  of  a  longer  story 
that  Rose  Hahnheimer,  reputed  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
Jewess  in  America,  whose  fiance,  Sigmund  Waldeman, 
had  been  indicted  for  embezzlement  of  $100,000  trust 
funds,  would  not  break  her  engagement  on  this  account, 
but  would  marry  Waldeman,  irrespective  of  his  guilt  or 
innocence. 

68.  "  D'you  read  it  ?  "  snapped  Mr.  Bickerdyke. 

69.  "  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Singleton. 

70.  "  See  the  story  ?  "  inquired  the  editor. 

71.  "  Yes,  sir." 

72.  "  Get  it !  "  ordered  Mr.  Bickerdyke.  "  Story  and 
picture.     Hike !  " 

73.  Singleton  stood  on  the  street  with  his  first  yellow 
newspaper  assignment  held  firmly  between  his  right  fore- 
finger and  thumb.  He  found  himself  accompanied  by  one 
of  the  Nations  staff  men,  a  pale,  blond  young  fellow,  who 
had  left  the  office  on  an  assignment  shortly  prior  to  his 
own  exit. 

74.  "  Pancoast's  my  name,"  began  this  youth,  intro- 
ducing himself.  ''  Singleton,"  he  repeated  as  the  name 
was  given  him.  "  Glad  to  know  you.  Singleton — we're 
partners  in  misfortune,  I  take  it.  Joined  the  Nation  s 
staff?" 

75.  "  Don't  know  exactly,"  said  Singleton. 

76.  "  What  are  you  on  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pancoast. 

77.  "  Hahnheimer  story,"  Singleton  confided. 


418  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

78.  "  What !  Mean  to  say  they  handed  you  that 
quince  ?  You're  on  a  dead  one.  Every  paper  in  town  has 
had  from  three  to  five  men  trying  to  land  a  picture  of  that 
Rosie  girl  for  the  last  two  weeks !  There  isn't  a  picture 
of  her  to  be  had  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Why,  I 
worked  on  the  thing  three  days  myself  and  I  know  what 
I'm  saying." 

79.  Paneoast's  tone  and  manner  suggested  that  since  he 
had  been  compelled  to  abandon  the  quest,  any  further  at- 
tempt in  the  same  direction  was  the  height  of  futility  and 
presumption. 

80.  ''  Let  me  tell  you,"  continued  the  expert.  "  There 
isn't  a  thing  we  haven't  done — plumber,  gasfittcr,  tele- 
phone collector,  messenger  boy,  fire  alarm,  burglary,  riot 
in  the  alley.  That  house  the  Hahnheimers  live  in  has 
been  frisked  from  cellar  to  garret.  There  isn't  a  picture 
of  Rose  there.  Every  photograph  gallery  in  town  has 
drawn  blank.  Every  friend  the  girl  ever  had  has  been 
visited.  Take  it  from  me,  there  are  just  three  pictures  of 
Rose  Hahnheimer  in  the  world. 

81.  "  Just  three  pictures,"  pursued  Mr.  Pancoast, 
"  and  I  know  where  two  of  them  are.  Waldeman  had  one ; 
no  chance  on  earth  there.  Mother's  got  one — safe  deposit 
vault  proposition.  The  third  one  has  never  been  located. 
We've  dragged  the  town  for  that  picture.  Singleton.  It 
isn't  here." 

82.  "  Still,"  Singleton  suggested,  "  there's  the  story." 

83.  "  Story  your  eye !  "  snorted  Pancoast  contemptu- 
ously. "  Why,  I  can  write  that  story  in  my  sleep.  Fealty 
of  the  beautiful  Jewess  maiden  for  a  column  of  gush. 
That's  all  there  is  to  the  story.  It  isn't  the  story  they 
want,  son,  it's  the  picky — the  swell  little  brunette  picky. 


I 


That  Hahnheimer  Story  419 

84.  "  And  if  you  get  that  picky  you're  a  star  of  the 
first  magnitude.  No,  you're  a  whole  constellation.  Great 
Scott !  They'd  buy  the  picture  this  minute,  postage  stamp 
size,  for  $250,  spot  cash.  That's  how  badly  they  want  it. 
Well,  I'll  have  to  beat  it  along." 

85.  As  Pancoast  disappeared  round  the  corner  Single- 
ton looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  4 :  45.  He  had  passed 
the  grimy  portals  of  the  Nation  ofiice  inward  bound  at 
3  :45.     It  had  been  a  lively  hour. 

86.  Some  time  later  Singleton  rang  the  front  door  bell 
of  the  brown-stone  Waldeman  mansion  in  upper  Michigan 
Avenue.  A  little  Irish  maid  admitted  him.  A  few  min- 
utes later  Waldeman  appeared,  a  tall,  olive-skinned,  hand- 
some man. 

87.  "  Mr.  Singleton  ?  "  he  queried  in  a  puzzled  way, 
with  a  glance  at  the  card. 

88.  "  Mr.  Waldeman,"  began  Singleton,  "  I  hope  you'll 
pardon  the  intrusion.  I  am  connected  with  the  evening 
and  Sunday  Nation.    I " 

89.  Waldeman  raised  a  long  white  hand  in  protest, 
smiling  wearily. 

90.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Singleton,"  he  purred,  "  for  sheer, 
uncompromising  effrontery  commend  me  to  the  Evening 
Nation  and  its  enterprising  crew  of  cutthroats.  Is  it  pos- 
sible that  you  are  unaware  of  the  treatment  I  have  re- 
ceived from  the  newspapers  ?  " 

91.  Waldeman's  handsome  face  flushed  as  he  put  the 
question. 

92.  "  This  is  my  first  day  in  the  Nation  office.  In  fact, 
it  is  my  first  day  in  Chicago,"  answered  Singleton. 

93.  "  Felicitations,"  smiled  Waldeman, 


420  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

9-4.  "  Thanks,"  snapped  Singleton.  "  What  have  they 
been  doing  to  you  ?  " 

95.  "  Much  that  I  do  not  care  to  detail,"  Waldeman 
went  on.  "  We  have  been  pursued,  hounded  by  camera 
men  through  the  streets,  intercepted  at  every  turn  by  nev^s- 
papcr  spies.  My  house  has  been  burglarized  twice.  The 
home  of  my  fiancee  has  been  entered  three  times.  At- 
tempts have  been  made  to  bribe  servants  in  both  houses. 
A  flashlight  bomb  was  exploded  in  my  ow'n  doorway  as  my 
mother  was  leaving  for  the  opera  one  night  last  week.  She 
has  ever  since  been  in  a  state  of  collapse,  under  the  care 
of  two  physicians." 

96.  Waldeman  drew  a  long  breath.  Then  he  went  on 
in  a  lower  voice,  almost  as  if  he  were  speaking  to  himself : 

97.  "  I  owe  the  newspapers  of  this  town  something,  but 
you  will  agree,  I  think,  that  they  cannot  claim  undue 
courtesy.  For  the  reasons  I  have  mentioned  and  for  many 
others,  Mr.  Singleton,  I  now  ask  you  to  leave  my  house." 

98.  Singleton  reached  for  his  hat. 

99.  "  I  don't  know  much  about  the  newspapers  here," 
he  said,  "  so  I  can't  place  responsibility  for  a  condition  of 
affairs  such  as  you  describe,  but  this  I  do  know,  Mr. 
Waldeman.  I  was  given  this  assignment  an  hour  ago  and 
I  came  direct  to  you.  I  believe  in  direct  methods.  I  did 
not  come  through  a  window,  you  will  recall;  I  rang  the 
bell." 

100.  Waldeman  listened  courteously. 

101.  "  That  is  true,"  he  agreed  in  his  precise  fashion. 
"  I  thank  you  for  ringing  the  bell,  of  course.  I  am  not 
attributing  blame  to  you  personally.  In  fact,  to  save  you 
trouble,  I'll  say  this.  There  are  but  three  photographs  of 
Mi::s  Hahnheimer  in  the  world.    One  of  them  I  bave.  Let 


I 


That  Hahnheimer  Stoey  421 

me  assure  you  that  it  will  never  leave  my  possession.  The 
mother  of  my  fiancee  has  another.  After  what  I  have  said 
I  leave  you  to  judge  whether  an  appeal  to  her  would  avail 
you. 

102.  "  The  third  is  the  property  of  Mrs.  Lieberman, 
Miss  Hahnheimer's  married  sister,  whose  home  is  an 
apartment  at  Fiftieth  Street  and  Indiana  Avenue.  Now, 
aside  from  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Lieberman  would  certainly 
refuse  to  give  up  the  picture,  it  happens  that  she  is  with 
her  family  in  Michigan  to  remain  several  months  and  I 
do  not  know  the  address.     Good  afternoon." 

103.  Singleton  descended  the  steps  to  the  street.  So 
this  was  Yellow  Journalism — jimmying  windows  and 
doors,  harrying  aged  women  into  their  graves !  But  per- 
haps, after  all,  these  newspaper  chaps  were  enthusiasts  to 
whom  any  means  to  a  newspaper  end  were  acceptable. 

104.  "  All's  fair  in  love  and  war,"  he  quoted.  Here 
were  love  of  the  game  and  war  in  the  playing  of  it.  Pan- 
coast,  for  instance,  evidently  part  human,  had  admitted  in 
a  half  joking  way  several  of  the  very  things  mentioned  in 
Waldeman's  indictment.  And  nothing  was  really  stolen, 
of  course.  Pictures  "  borrowed  "  were  probably  returned 
in  some  roundabout  way.  At  all  events  the  business  in 
hand  was  to  get  Kose  Hahnheimer's  portrait;  by  fair 
means  if  possible.     If  not 

105.  Twenty  minutes  later  the  young  art  collector 
alighted  from  an  Indiana  Avenue  car  at  Fiftieth 
Street. 

106.  The  flat  building  in  which  the  Liebermans  lived 
was  not  pretentious.  They  were  probably  poor  relations. 
Singleton  noted  that  there  was  a  light  behind  the  window 


422  Today's  Shokt  Stories  Analyzed 

curtains  of  the  groimd  floor  apartment.    Now,  if  that  only 
turned  out  to  be  the  Lieberman  flat ! 

107.  The  outer  hallway  was  dimly  lighted.  Singleton 
struck  a  match.  Yes,  there  it  was — first  floor  right — 
Jacob  Lieberman.     He  rang  the  bell. 

108.  There  was  a  brief  delay  and  then  a  plump,  smil- 
ing, auburn-haired  young  woman  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. Mrs.  Lieberman  radiated  good  nature  and  proved 
to  be  a  generous  soul. 

109.  Fifteen  minutes  later,  having  completed  his  mis- 
sion, Singleton  debated  with  himself  whether  to  dine  be- 
fore telephoning  to  the  office.  On  reflection  he  decided  to 
telephone  first. 

110.  The  man  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  announced 
himself  as  Mr.  Sooner,  and  added  that  he  was  the  assist- 
ant city  editor.  Mr.  Sooner,  Singleton  discovered,  pos- 
sessed the  conversational  graces  of  a  saddle-galled  bull- 
whacker.  He  was,  it  may  be  added,  exceptionally  forceful 
over  a  telephone. 

111.  "  \Yha'  d'ja  want?  "  demanded  Mr.  Sooner. 

112.  "  City  editor,"  replied  Singleton  suavely. 

113.  "  Who're  you  ?  "  snorted  Sooner. 

114.  "  Singleton,"  ultra-courteously. 

115.  "  Who's  he  ?  "  truculently. 

116.  "  Ask  Mr.  Herongoetz,"  suggestively. 

117.  "What'reya'  doin' ?  " 

118.  "  Hahnheimer  story.  All  cleaned  up.  Shall  I 
come  in  ?  " 

119.  "Who  put  you  on  the  Hahnheimer  story?" 

120.  "  Don't  know  his  name — man  with  a  bald  spot  on 
top  of  his  head — chap  with  the  nervous  feet»" 

121.  "  Wait  a  minute." 


That  Hahnheimee  Story  423 

122.  Then,  standing  with  his  ear  to  the  receiver,  Sin- 
gleton heard : 

123.  "  Here's  a  boob  says  he's  on  the  Hahnheimer  story 
and  cleaned  up.     Wouldn't  that  frost  your  whiskers  ?  " 

124.  A  voice:  "  Here,  let  me  talk  to  him." 

125.  Singleton  decided  that  the  last  speaker  was  Mr. 
Bickerdyke,  the  city  editor.  Then  there  was  a  new  voice 
at  the  phone. 

126.  "  Hello !  who  is  this  ?  " 
12Y.    "Singleton." 

128.  "  This  is  the  Nation,  Bickerdyke  talking.  Are 
you  working  here  ?  " 

129.  "  I  don't  know.  Somebody  sent  me  out — assign- 
ment— Hahnheimer  case." 

130.  "What?" 

131.  "  Hahnheimer  case.  I'm  cleaned  up.  I  want  a 
'  come-in '  order." 

132.  There  was  a  guttural  exclamation  from  the  other 
end  of  the  wire.     Then  the  questioning  recommenced. 

133.  "  What've  you  done  ?  " 

134.  "  Cleaned  up,  sir." 

135.  "What?" 

136.  "  Cleaned  up  !  "  rather  emphatically. 

137.  "  Your  name's  Singleton,  you  say  ?  " 

138.  "Yes." 

139.  "  Who  hired  you  ?  " 

140.  "  I^obody.  Managing  editor  told  me  to  hang  up 
my  hat." 

141.  There  was  a  groaning  and  rumbling  noise  from 
the  sending  end.     Then  Mr.  Bickerdyke  went  on 

142.  "  Mr.  Singleton,  do  you  know  what  your  assign- 
ment called  for  ?  " 


424  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

143.  "Yes  sir;  story  and  picture,  Rose  Hahnheimer. 
All  clear,  Mr.  Bickerdykc." 

144.  "  You've  cleaned  up  ?  " 

145.  This  time  it  was  a  shriek. 

146.  "  Y^'es.  Give  me  orders.  What  do  you  want  me 
to  do?" 

147.  There  was  a  crashing,  tearing  noise  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line.  It  seemed  that  some  one  had  fallen  out 
of  a  chair.     Then  came  this 

148.  "  Say,  mean  to  tell  me  you've  got  that  girl's 
picture  ?  " 

149.  Singleton  blew  up.  For  half  a  minute  the  wire 
was  in  danger  of  melting.  Strange  to  say,  the  city  editor 
of  the  Nation  became  calmer  as  Singleton  grew  more  in- 
dignant. 

150.  '  "  Suffering  cats !  "  howled  the  man  at  the  office 
end.     "  Wait  a  minute." 

151.  There  was  a  brief  delay.  Then  came  the  sound 
of  ponderous  feet  and  an  accompaniment  of  excited  voices, 
all  close  to  the  telephone. 

152.  Then  Mr.  Herengoet^,  using  the  dulcet  tones  he 
usually  reserved  for  communion  with  Mr.  Vest,  the  editor- 
in-chief,  began: 

153.  "Hellow!  Mr.  Singleton?  Ah,  Mr.  Singleton. 
I  am  told  you  have  obtained  a  portrait  of  Miss  Hahn- 
heimer — the  beautiful  Miss  Hahnheimer.  Am  I  correctly 
informed  ?  " 

154.  "  Y-e-e-s-s !  "  howled  Singleton.     "  You  are." 

155.  "Mr.  Singleton,  are  you  sure?" 

156.  What  could  be  the  matter  with  these  men?  The 
honeyed  accents  of  Mr.  Herengoetz  were  tense,  eager,  ap- 
prehensive.   There  was  sweat  in  the  man's  voice.     Single- 


That  Hahnheimer  Story  425 

ton  felt  in  his  pocket  to  make  sure  he  had  not  lost  the  pic- 
ture.    Then  he  roared  into  the  transmitter : 

157.  "  I've  got  the  picture.  What  do  you  want  me  to 
do  ?    Come  in  ?  " 

158.  There  was  dead  silence  for  an  instant,  then  a  tre- 
mendous roar.  The  dulcet  tones  of  the  Colossus  had 
changed  to  a  bellow  that  boomed  over  the  wire  and  shiv- 
ered the  tympanum  of  the  receiver. 

159.  "  Shall  you  come  in  ?  Oh  shades  of  night !  Shall 
you  come  in  ?  Ye  gods  and  split-tailed  fishes !  Can  you 
fly,  Mr.  Singleton  ?    If  you  can't  fly,  grab  an  automobile. 

Beat  it  to  this  office.    Break  a  record,  man.    To with 

the  police.     Come  in !     Come  in !     Oh,  do  come  in  !  " 

160.  Singleton  hung  up  the  receiver  and  stepped  out- 
side. 

161.  A  big  negro  was  cranking  a  fast-looking  touring 
car  at  the  curb. 

162.  "  Where  are  you  going  with  that  car  ?  "  demanded 
the  newspaper  man. 

163.  "  Private  car.  Coin'  to  the  Fust  National  Bank. 
What's  it  to  you  ? "  retorted  the  Senegambian  with  a 
snarl. 

164.  "  Five  dollars  if  you  land  me  outside  the  Nation 
office  inside  of  twenty  minutes,"  said  Singleton. 

165.  "  Got  yo'.  Roll  in,"  was  the  ready  answer,  as  Sin- 
gleton exhibited  a  five-dollar  bill. 

166.  An  instant  later  he  was  speeding  townward  at  a 
rate  that  must  have  smashed  every  speed  ordinance  to 
flinders. 

167.  Two  policemen  threw  their  clubs  at  the  black 
chauffeur  as  the  machine  sped  past.    In  eighteen  minutes, 


42 G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

by   a   very  good  watch,    Singleton  entered   tlie   Nations 
wheezy  elevator. 

168.  "  Third,  in  a  hurry,"  he  ordered. 

169.  "  Can't  hurry  this  here  wagon,"  snarled  the  boy. 

170.  For  the  second  time  that  day  Singleton  emerged 
into  the  little  wooden  coop.  But  his  reception  on  this  oc- 
casion was  not  at  all  as  the  previous  one  had  been.  The 
tousle-headed  boy  with  the  slanting  eye  was  waiting  for 
him.  As  Singleton  appeared  this  youth  uttered  an  appal- 
ling yell.  Simultaneously  the  door  flew  open  and  Single- 
ton burst  through  it,  to  become  the  central  figure  in  an 
extraordinary  gathering. 

171.  Grouped  in  the  foreground  were  Mr.  Herengoetz, 
Mr.  Bickerdyke,  and  Mr.  Sooner.  Massed  behind  them 
were  a  dozen  or  more  reporters  led  by  Pancoast ;  rewrite 
men,  telegraph  operators,  copy  readers,  stereotypers,  and 
engravers. 

172.  It  was  like  the  male  side  of  a  comic-opera  chorus 
grouping — just  as  the  Prince  comes  in,  you  know,  only 
there  was  no  orchestra,  except  the  jangling  of  machinery 
and  the  yelling  of  excited  men. 

173.  Singleton  held  out  the  picture  of  Eosie.  It  was 
seized  eagerly  by  Mr.  Herengoetz,  who  instantly  became 
surrounded  by  a  pushing,  mauling  mob,  anxious  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  portrait. 

174.  "That's  her!"  yelled  a  man  with  a  glass  eye. 
"  I'd  know  her  in  a  church.     Yah,  that's  her." 

175.  Mr.  Herengoetz  hugged  the  picture  to  his  mas- 
sive breast  and  for  an  instant  raised  his  expressive  eyes  in 
mute  thanksgiving.  A  tear  trickled  down  each  of  his 
plump  white  cheeks.  Three  times  he  kissed  Miss  Hahn- 
heimer's  portrait  with  fervent,  resounding  smacks.    Then, 


That  Hahnheimee  Stoey  427 

with  a  series  of  elephantine  bounds  he  gained  the  corner  of 
the  big  room  reserved  for  "  artists,"  Placing  the  picture 
in  the  hands  of  Smithers,  head  of  the  picture  department, 
Mr.  Herengoetz  roared  triumphantly: 

176.  "  Three  columns  wide — all  over  the  paper.  Yah, 
front  page  layout.     Rush  it !  " 

177.  Then  Mr.  Herengoetz  and  Mr.  Bickerdyke  linked 
arms  and  danced  together.  Mr.  Herengoetz  was  astound- 
ingly  nimble  on  his  feet  for  so  heavy  a  man. 

178.  During  this  extraordinary  scene,  Mr.  Vest,  the 
editor-in-chief,  a  dapper  little  man  with  a  shrewd  news- 
paper eye,  had  been  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  his 
hands  and  a  few  inches  of  his  bare  arms  poked  deep  into 
his  trousers  pockets. 

179.  The  fact  that  he  raised  himself  up  and  down  on 
his  toes  may  have  indicated  that  he  was  interested  despite 
his  aloofness. 

180.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  Old  Man's  story.  He  it  was 
had  insisted  on  the  hunt  for  Rosie's  picture  being  kept  up 
unceasingly.  Hundreds  of  times  in  Mr.  Vest's  experience 
victory  had  been  pulled  out  of  defeat  by  persistent  effort. 

181.  Now  Mr.  Vest  made  his  way  toward  Singleton, 
who  was  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the  staff,  and  re- 
marked in  a  tone  intended  to  be  casual : 

182.  "  Mr.  Singleton,  I'm  interested  to  know  how  you 
got  that  picture.  Of  course  you  need  not  tell  unless  you 
wish  to  do  so ;  merely  curiosity  on  my  part,  you  know." 

183.  "  K"o  objection  at  all,"  said  Singleton.  "  I  asked 
the  lady  for  it." 

184.  A  wail  of  anguish  from  Pancoast  greeted  this 
announcement.  The  star  man  seemed  on  the  verge  of 
tears. 


428  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

185.  "Good  Lord!"  he  gasped.  "Good  Lord!  I 
never  thought  of  that." 

186.  "  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Vest,  smiling.  "  Write 
the  story." 

187.  "  Say !  "  broke  in  Mr.  Bickerdyke  a  moment  later, 
"  what's  your  first  name  ?  I  want  to  put  you  on  the  pay- 
roll." 


THE  WOMAN  AT  SEVEN  BEOTHERS 
The  Stoey  as  a  Whole 

1.  Different  readers  of  Mr.  Steele's  story  have  given 
different  interpretations  of  it  with  which  the  editor  does 
not  agree.  The  most  plausible  of  these  is  the  following: 
That  the  story  is  a  "  ghost  story  "  and  that  Anna  reap- 
peared at  the  lighthouse  after  being  drowned,  all  the  nar- 
rative from  par.  93  forward  having  to  do  with  her  ghostly 
return.  The  least  plausible  explanation  offered  by  a 
chance  reader  is  that  Anna  did  in  some  way  manage  to 
return  in  the  flesh  and 'that  Ray  murdered  her.  The  lat- 
ter of  these  interpretations  does  not  accord  with  the  ex- 
planation of  the  youth's  present  situation  as  indicated  by 
par.  1,  VN'hich  obviously  is  intended  to  afford  the  key  to 
Ray's  narrative.  From  par.  1  it  appears  that  Ray,  after 
court  proceedings,  has  been  confined  in  an  asylum  as  men- 
tally unbalanced ;  and  further,  that  Anna  was  found  dead 
with  her  husband  on  the  flats  (drowned,  not  murdered — 
par.  167)  from  8  to  12  hours  before  the  incidents  of  the 
final  night.  This  clearly  makes  the  theory  of  murder 
(either  of  Anna  or  of  both  Anna  and  her  husband)  un- 
tenable. But  it  still  leaves  the  theory  of  a  ghostly  return 
at  most  points  unshaken ;  the  story  may  be  one  of  mystery 
and  the  occult. 

2.  But  against  regarding  it  as  such  are  strong  argu- 
ments: (A)  Mr.  Steele  is  too  skillful  a  writer  to  counter- 
act the  impression  he  intends  to  make ;  therefore,  ho  would 
not  warn  us  that  the  narrative  is  that  of  a  crazy  man  if  he 

429 


430  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

wished  us  to  accept  it  and  respond  to  it  as  a  tale  of  the 
mysterious.  He  might  hint  it,  but  that  is  quite  as  far  as 
he  would  go ;  cf.  W.  W.  Jacobs'  story  "  The  Monkey's 
Paw  "  (in  "  The  Lady  of  the  Barge,"  published  by  Dodd, 
Mead  &  Co.),  reprinted  in  Esenwein's  "  Studying  the 
Short  Story"  (Home  Correspondence  School).  Mr. 
Jacobs  skillfully  reveals  the  possibility  of  a  natural  cause 
for  each  of  the  three  mysterious  situations  in  his  story, 
but  that  is  all ;  his  emphasis  is  on  the  mysterious  and  awe- 
some, and  these  are  what  we  are  impressed  with.  But 
Mr.  Steele  at  the  beginning  informs  us  that  we  are  listen- 
ing to  the  story  of  a  man  mentally  deranged,  then  goes  on 
in  the  words  of  the  deranged  man  with  a  portrayal  of  the 
development  of  the  victim's  derangement,  culminating  in 
the  hallucinations  of  the  final  night.  So  interpreted,  the 
story  has  power  and  reveals  thoroughly  motivated  effect ; 
regarded  as  a  story  of  the  mysterious  and  occult,  it  is 
manifestly  weak  through  cutting  away  the  ground  from 
under  the  very  matters  on  which  it  must  depend  for  effect. 
—  (B)  Mr.  Steele  is  fond  of  situations  involving  forms  of 
mental  derangement,  and  remarkably  able  in  constructing 
actional  plots  for  portraying  them.  See,  for  example,  his 
very  notable  story  "  Land's  End,"  printed  in  Collier's, 
March  25,  1916.  In  this  specialized  form  he  is  as  adept 
and  masterly  as  Mr.  Melville  Davisson  Post  has  been  in 
the  Uncle  Abner  stories  of  the  induction  of  convicting  cir- 
cumstances surrounding  crime — a  fact,  by  the  way,  that 
perhaps  implies  greater  achievement,  because  the  mate- 
rials of  the  psychopathic  atmosj^here  conte  are  more  dif- 
ficult of  handling.  As  a  story  of  mental  or  nervous  de- 
rangement, "  The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  "  is  repre- 
sentative of  this  particular  tendency  of  Mr.  Steele's  work. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Beothers  431 

—  (C)  If  the  story  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  mysterious 
and  occult,  it  is  ill  proportioned,  for  in  that  case  the  first 
two-thirds  of  it  are  taken  up  largely  with  matters  that 
make  no  contribution  to  the  essential  one-third,  but  rather 
nullify  its  impressiveness  by  confusing  us  with  misleading 
suggestions  of  matter-of-fact  actuality,  the  daily  round  of 
existence,  of  atmosphere  and  character,  and  the  develop- 
ment of  an  illicit  fascination.  On  the  other  hand,  as  a 
portrayal  of  mental  derangement,  the  story  has  manifest 
unity  and  proportion,  and  thorough  integration  of  all  its 
materials  to  a  definite  purpose  and  outcome. 

3.  Hence  the  plot  conception  may  be  summarized  as 
follows:  A  weak  young  man,  a  bit  depressed  of  tempera- 
ment as  well  as  inexperienced  in  life,  is  placed  where  lone- 
liness is  unbroken,  with  no  companions  except  an  old  man, 
morbid  and  warped  by  long  living  in  the  same  isolation, 
and  a  woman,  nearer  the  boy's  age,  who  has  similarly  been 
rendered  morbid  and  unwholesome  of  thought  by  the  same 
influences.  The  situation  and  the  persons  get  on  his 
nerves,  and  he  himself  rapidly  develops  morbidness.  His 
uneasiness  is  aggravated  by  the  rousing  of  sex  instincts 
toward  the  woman,  who  courts  him  with  weird,  strange, 
impersonal  approaches  that  spring  as  much  from  vague  re- 
actions against  the  unwholesome  monotony  as  from  any 
actual  attraction.  They  are  all  under  continuous  repres- 
sion, unrelieved  by  the  routine  of  their  daily  occupations, 
constantly  dwelling  in  unhealthy  moods  and  entertaining 
unhealthy  ideas.  The  boy's  nerves  break,  and  when  he  is 
left  alone  in  the  lighthouse,  in  the  midst  of  storm,  he  is 
visited  with  hallucinations,  yields  to  them,  and  passes  over 
the  line  into  insanity,  ending  up  where  we  find  him  in 
par.  1,  in  an  asylum. 


432  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

4.  The  story  therefore  gets  its  effect  through  siibjeetive- 
coloring;  i.e.,  is  an  atmosphere  story  (S.  S.  M.,  54: 1-17). 
The  atmosphere  materials  through  which  the  subjective- 
coloring  is  given  and  the  atmosphere-effect  attained  are  in 
this  conte  (a)  mood,  (b)  environment,  mental  and  phys- 
ical, and  to  a  less  extent  (c)  character  and  temperament. 
The  developing  incident  and  the  intensifying  matter  are 
carefully  selected  to  present  these  impression-elements. 

5.  The  presentation  is  restrained  and  artistically  bare. 
N'o  Charles-Reade  horrors  or  other  sensationally  hectic 
descriptions  are  introduced,  the  plain  facts  themselves  ade- 
quately producing  the  effect ;  cf.  S.  S.  M.,  67 :  18.  The 
story  is  one  of  psychopathic  atmosphere,  but  it  emphat- 
ically is  not  a  "  psychopathic  study  " ;  it  is  a  true  short 
story. 

6.  Except-  that  the  fate  of  the  central  person  is  indi- 
cated in  the  opening  paragraph,  the  narrative  proceeds  in 
chronological  order  throughout.  Introduction  of  the  fate 
of  the  central  person  (which  normally  belongs  in  the  con- 
cluding part  of  the  falling  action)  is  dictated  by  two  con- 
siderations: that  by  introducing  it  without  explanation, 
the  narrative  will  arouse  curiosity  at  the  opening  (sus- 
pense device),  and  that  it  affords  the  key  to  the  incidents 
about  to  be  told  by  this  person,  enabling  the  reader  to 
adjust  them  into  a  correct  interpretation.  The  chrono- 
logical sequence  is  dictated  by  the  concept  of  the  story 
itself — the  gradual  derangement  of  an  individual  mind. 
Impression  of  a  steady  intensification  of  subjective  state 
is  the  result  aimed  at ;  hence  disarrangement  and  re- 
location of  incident  would  confuse  the  account  and  inter- 
fere with  emotional  comprehension  of  the  drama.  On  the 
matter  of  this  note,  cf.  S.  S.  M.,  122  to  141 :  9 ;  151 : 1-7. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Bkothees  433 

7.  The  following  hints  may  be  useful  toward  analysis 
of  the  (slight)  supporting  framework  of  plot:  (A)  Gen- 
erating circumstance,  Ray's  appointment  as  assistant  to 
the  keeper. — (B)  Motivating  influences,  those  mentioned 
in  nn,  3-4  above. — (C)  Conflict,  that  of  the  boy's  training 
and  of  normal  nature  against  these  influences.  The 
woman,  being  the  strongest  personality  of  the  three,  is  the 
strongest  external  influence  and  the  dominating  plot  agent. 
The  most  intense  part  of  the  conflict  is  that  of  Ray's 
normal  conscience  and  instinctive  taste  against  the  fas- 
cination she  exercises  over  him  through  the  combination 
of  normal  and  abnormal  influences  described  in  n.  3 
above. — (D)  Decisive  moment  (or  beginning  of  decisive 
situation),  par.  86,  when  the  open  door  of  the  woman's 
room  suddenly  brings  back  and  intensifies  the  previous 
mood  of  terror  and  precipitates  a  stronger  attack  of 
"  nerves." — (E)  Climactic  height,  the  incidents  of  hal- 
lucination in  the  lantern  and  the  wild  pursuit  down  the 
staircase  well. — (F)  Outcome,  insanity,  and  incarcera- 
tion in  the  asylum,  indicated  in  par.  1  of  the  story  and 
dramatically  presented  in  the  dialogue  (pars.  156-173) 
between  the  inspector  and  the  boy,  and  the  latter's  closing 
remark  (174),  indicating  a  permanent  delusion  in  his 
mind  concerning  matters  the  explanation  of  which  is  per- 
fectly apparent  to  others. 


THE  WOMAN  AT  SEVEN  BROTHEKS 
By  Wilbur  Daniel  Steele 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from 

"Harper's  Jlonthly  "  for  December,  1917. 

(Copyrighted,  l'J17,  by  Harper  and  Brothers) 

1.  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  was  innocent.  I  didn't  know  any 
more  about  the  world  at  twenty-two  than  some  do  at 
twelve.  My  uncle  and  aunt  in  Duxbury  brought  me  up 
strict;  I  studied  hard  in  high  school,  I  worked  hard  after 
hours,  and  I  went  to  church  twice  on  Sundays,  and  I  can't 
see  it's  right  to  put  me  in  a  place  like  this,  with  crazy 
people.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  they're  crazy — you  can't  tell  me. 
As  for  what  they  said  in  court  about  finding  her  with  her 
husband,  that's  the  Inspector's  lie,  sir,  because  he's  down 
on  me,  and  wants  to  make  it  look  like  my  fault. 

2.  No,  sir,  I  can't  say  as  I  thought  she  ^  was  handsome 
— not  at  first.  For  one  thing  her  lips  were  too  thin  and 
white,  and  her  color  was  bad.  I'll  tell  you  a  fact,  sir ;  that 
first  day  I  came  off  to  the  Light  I  was  sitting  on  my  cot 
in  the  store-room  (that's  where  the  assistant  keeper  sleeps 
at  the  Seven  Brothers),  as  lonesome  as  I  could  be,  away 


1.  The  opening  sentences  give  us  at  once  the  key  to  the  speak- 
er's mental  state;  note  the  muddled  reasoning.  Note  also  (last  sen- 
tence) the  "  fixed  delusion  "  that  is  one  of  the  signs  of  derange- 
ment. 

2.  '  Introduction  of  the  dominating  person  (not  the  central 
person).  This  story  shows  that  a  contributory  person  (Anna)  can 
dispute  prominence  with  the  central  person  without  usurping  the 

434 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Beothees  435 

from  home  for  the  first  time  and  the  water  all  around  me, 
and,  even  though  it  was  a  calm  day,  pounding  enough  on 
the  ledge  to  send  a  kind  of  a  woom-ivoom-woom  ~  whining 
up  through  all  that  solid  rock  of  the  tower.  And  when 
old  Fedderson  j^oked  his  head  down  from  the  living-room 
with  the  sunshine  above  making  a  kind  of  bright  frame 
around  his  hair  and  whiskers,  to  give  me  a  cheery,  ''  Make 
yourself  to  home,  son !  "  I  remember  I  said  to  myself : 
"  He's  all  right.  I'll  get  along  with  him.  But  his  wife's 
enough  to  sour  milk."  That  was  queer,  because  she  was 
so  much  under  him  in  age — 'long  about  twenty-eight  or 
so,  and  him  nearer  fifty.  But  that's  what  I  said, 
sir. 

3.  Of  course  that  feeling  wore  off,  same  as  any  feel- 
ing will  wear  off  sooner  or  later  in  a  place  like  the  Seven 
Brothers.  Cooped  up  in  a  place  like  that  you  come  to 
know  folks  so  well  that  you  forget  what  they  do  look  like. 
There  was  a  long  time  I  never  noticed  her,  any  more  than 
you'd  notice  the  cat.  We  used  to  sit  of  an  evening  around 
the  table,  as  if  you  were  Fedderson  there,  and  me  here, 
and  her  somewhere  back  there,  in  the  rocker,  knitting. 
Fedderson  would  be  working  on  his  Jacob's-ladder,  and  I'd 
be  reading.  He'd  been  working  on  that  Jacob's-ladder  a 
year,  I  guess,  and  every  time  the  Inspector  came  oft"  with 
the  tender  he  was  so  astonished  to  see  how  good  that  lad- 


leading  place  in  attention. — "  First  indication  of  the  influence  of 
the  physical  environment  on  the  boy's  mental  state. — As  a  whole, 
the  paragraph  supplies  the  foundation  for  all  the  developments 
that  succeed — influence  of  surroundings,  personal  relationships, 
mood.  Demonstrate  this  assertion. — Note  the  distributed  items  of 
expositional  and  characterizing  information  here  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing paragraphs. 

3-4.    Character-indication  of  Fedderson. 


436  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

der  was  that  the  old  man  would  go  to  work  and  make  it 
better.     That's  all  he  lived  for. 

4.  If  I  was  reading,  as  I  say,  I  daren't  take  my  eyes 
off  the  book,  or  Fedderson  had  me.  And  then  he'd  begin 
— what  the  Inspector  said  about  him.  How  surprised  the 
member  of  the  board  had  been,  that  time,  to  see  everything 
so  clean  about  the  light.  "What  the  Inspector  had  said 
about  Fedderson's  being  stuck  here  in  a  second-class  light 
— best  keeper  on  the  coast.  And  so  on  and  so  on,  till 
either  he  or  I  had  to  go  aloft  and  have  a  look  at  the  wicks. 

5.  He'd  been  there  twenty-three  years,  all  told,  and 
he'd  got  used  to  the  feeling  that  he  was  kept  down  unfair 
— so  used  to  it,  I  guess,  that  he  fed  on  it,  and  told  himself 
how  folks  ashore  would  talk  when  he  was  dead  and  gone — 
best  keeper  on  the  coast — kept  down  unfair.  Not  that  he 
said  that  to  me.  ~Ro,  he  was  far  too  loyal  and  humble  and 
respectful,  doing  his  duty  without  complaint,  as  anybody 
could  see. 

6.  And  all  that  time,  night  after  night,  hardly  ever  a 
word  out  of  the  w^oman.  As  I  remember  it,  she  seemed 
more  like  a  piece  of  furniture  than  anything  else — not 
even  a  very  good  cook,  nor  over  and  above  tidy.  One 
day,  when  he  and  I  were  trimming  the  lamp,  he  passed  the 
remark  that  his  first  wife  used  to  dust  the  lens  and  take  a 
pride  in  it.  ISTot  that  he  said  a  word  against  Anna,  though. 
He  never  said  a  word  against  any  living  mortal ;  he  was 
too  upright. 

5.  Shows  the  direction  taken  by  morbidness  in  Fedderson 
(effect  of  environment  and  situation;  introd.  n.  3). 

6.  This  paragraph,  Uke  all  the  narrative,  must  be  read  beneath 
the  surface.  Observe  how  it  is  made  to  indicate  the  running  of 
the  boy's  mind  on  the  woman.  Thouah  he  beheves  the  contrary, 
she  has  commanded  attention  from  him  from  the  first. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  437 

7.  I  don't  know  how  it  came  about ;  or,  rather,  I  do 
know,  but  it  was  so  sudden,  and  so  far  away  from  my 
thoughts,  that  it  shocked  me,  like  the  world  turned  over. 
It  was  at  prayers.  That  night  I  remember  Fedderson  was 
uncommon  long-winded.  We'd  had  a  batch  of  newspapers 
out  by  the  tender,  and  at  such  times  the  old  man  always 
made  a  long  watch  of  it,  getting  the  world  straightened  out. 
For  one  thing,  the  United  States  minister  to  Turkey  was 
dead.  Well,  from  him  and  his  soul,  Fedderson  got  on  to 
Turkey  and  the  Methodist  college  there,  and  from  that 
to  heathen  in  general.  He  rambled  on  and  on,  like  the 
surf  on  the  ledge,  ivoom-woom-woom/  never  coming  to  an 
end. 

8.  You  know  how  you'll  be  at  prayers  sometimes.  My 
mind  strayed.  I  counted  the  canes  in  the  chair-seat  where 
I  was  kneeling;  I  plaited  a  corner  of  the  table-cloth  be- 
tween my  fingers  for  a  spell,  and  by  and  by  my  eyes  went 
wandering  up  the  back  of  the  chair. 

9.  The  woman,  sir,  was  looking  at  me.  Her  chair  was 
back  to  mine,  close,  and  both  our  heads  were  down  in  the 


7.  We  are  far  enough  advanced  in  the  narrative  to  see  how  it 
represents  throughout  (this  paragraph  being  an  illustration)  the 
unhealthy  introspection  characteristic  of  certain  forms  of  in- 
sanity— constant  dwelling  on  what  has  happened,  and  how,  and 
why.  This  story  is  carried  through  in  a  way  to  convey  this  tone 
or  quality  down  to  the  end ;  it  catches  the  tone  and  manner  of 
the  unhinged  narrator. — '  The  repetition  (see  par.  2)  reveals 
how  this  whining  monotony  of  sound  in  the  environment  pursued 
and  disturbed  him. 

9.  '  Note  the  aptness  of  the  word,  and  the  effect  of  weird  ab- 
normal questing  that  it  conveys. — The  closing  sentence  indicates 
the  stage  of  nervous  "  jumpiness "  he  has  reached  after  these 
weeks.  (Observe  the  effect  of  pars.  3-6  in  conveying  the  impres- 
sion of  lapse  of  time.) 


438  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

shadow  iiiuler  the  edge  of  the  table,  with  Fedderson  clear 
over  on  the  other  side  by  the  stove.  And  there  were  her 
two  eyes  hunting  ^  mine  between  the  spindles  in  the 
shadow.  You  won't  believe  me,  sir,  but  I  tell  you  I  felt 
like  jumping  to  my  feet  and  running  out  of  the  room — 
it  was  so  queer. 

10.  I  don't  know  what  her  husband  was  praying  about 
after  that.  His  voice  didn't  mean  anything,  no  more  than 
the  seas  on  the  ledge  aw'ay  down  there.  I  went  to  work 
to  count  the  canes  in  the  seat  again,  but  all  my  eyes  were 
in  the  top  of  my  head.  It  got  so  I  couldn't  stand  it.  We 
WTre  at  the  Lord's  prayer,  saying  it  sing-song  together, 
when  I  had  to  look  up  again.  And  there  her  two  eyes 
were,  between  the  spindles,  hunting  mine.     Just  then  all 

of  us  were  saying,  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses "     I 

thought  of  it  afterward.^ 

11.  When  we  got  up  she  was  turned  the  other  way,  but 
I  couldn't  help  seeing  her  cheeks  were  red.  It  was  ter- 
rible. I  wondered  if  Fedderson  would  notice,  though  I 
might  have  known  he  wouldn't — not  him.  He  was  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry  to  get  at  his  Jacob's-ladder,  and  then  he 
had  to  tell  me  for  the  tenth  time  what  the  Inspector  'd 


10.  ^  Another  instance  of  the  trait  of  exaggerating  details  fre- 
quently found  in  morbid  reflection.  It  accords,  moreover,  with 
the  hint  of  his  strict  bringing  up  given  in  par.  1 — an  illustration 
of  the  small  consistencies  by  which  an  author's  conceptions  can 
be  kept  distinct  in  the  reader's  mind  and  strengthened  by  passing 
touches. 

11-13.  Intensifying  psychological  episode  that  in  effect  is  al- 
most a  developing  plot  incident,  inasmuch  as  the  conflict  involved 
in  the  plot  is  psychological,  as  explained  in  introd.  n.  3;  on  plot 
and  intensifying  incident,  see  S.  S.  M.,  107 :  30-35.  On  the  func- 
tion and  handling  of  psychological  narrative,  see  S.  S.  M.,  50 :  15 
and  228 :  15. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Bkothees  439 

said  that  day  about  getting  him  another  light — Kingdom 
Come,  maybe,  he  said. 

12.  I  made  some  excuse  or  other  and  got  away.  Once 
in  the  store-room,  I  sat  down  on  my  cot  and  stayed  there 
a  long  time,  feeling  queerer  than  anything.  I  read  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible,  I  don't  know  why.  After  I'd  got 
my  boots  off  I  sat  with  them  in  my  hands  for  as  much  as 
an  hour,  I  guess,  staring  at  the  oil-tank  and  its  lopsided 
shadow  on  the  wall.  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  was  shocked.  I 
was  only  twenty-two,  remember,  and  I  was  shocked  and 
horrified. 

13.  And  when  I  did  turn  in  finally,  I  didn't  sleep  at 
all  well.  Two  or  three  times  I  came  to,  sitting  straight 
up  in  bed.  Once  I  got  up  and  opened  the  outer  door  to 
have  a  look.  The  water  was  like  glass,  dim,  without  a 
breath  of  wind,  and  the  moon  just  going  down.  Over  on 
the  black  shore  I  made  out  two  lights  in  a  village,  like  a 
pair  of  eyes  watching.  Lonely  ?  My,  yes !  Lonely  and 
nervous.  I  had  a  horror  of  her,  sir.  The  dinghy-boat 
hung  on  its  davits  just  there  in  front  of  the  door,  and  for 
a  minute  I  had  an  awful  hankering  to  climb  into  it,  lower 
away,  and  row  off,  no  matter  where.     It  sounds  foolish. 

14.  Well,  it  seemed  foolish  next  morning,  with  the  sun 
shining  and  everything  as  usual — Fedderson  sucking  his 
pen  and  wagging  his  head  over  his  eternal  "  log,"  and  his 
wife  down  in  the  rocker  with  her  head  in  the  newspaper, 
and  her  breakfast  work  still  waiting.  I  guess  that  jarred 
it  out  of  me  more  than  anything  else — sight  of  her 
slouched  down  there,  with  her  stringy,  yellow  hair  and  her 
dusty  apron  and  the  pale  back  of  her  neck,  reading  the 


14-17.    Contrast  passage,  in  which  the  normal  temporarily  ousts 
the  morbid.    Cf.  par.  85.    Are  there  other  instances  m  the  story? 


440  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

Society  Notes.  Society  Notes!  Think  of  it!  For  the 
first  time  since  I  came  to  Seven  Brothers  I  wanted  to 
laugh. 

15.  I  guess  I  did  laugh  when  I  went  aloft  to  clean  the 
lamp  and  found  everything  so  free  and  breezy,  gulls  flying 
high  and  little  white-caps  making  under  a  westerly.  It 
was  like  feeling  a  big  load  dropped  off  your  shoulders. 
Feddcrson  came  up  with  his  dust-rag  and  cocked  his  head 
at  me. 

16.  "  What's  the  matter,  Eay  ?  "  said  he. 

17.  "  Nothing,"  said  I.  And  then  I  couldn't  help  it. 
"  Seems  kind  of  out  of  place  for  society  notes,"  said  I, 
"  out  here  at  Seven  Brothers." 

18.  He  was  the  other  side  of  the  lens,  and  when  he 
looked  at  me  he  had  a  thousand  eyes,  all  sober.  For  a 
minute  I  thought  he  was  going  on  dusting,  but  then  he 
came  out  and  sat  down  on  a  sill. 

19.  "  Sometimes,"  said  he,  "  I  get  to  thinking  it  may 
be  a  mite  dull  for  her  out  here.  She's  pretty  young,  Ray. 
Not  much  more'n  a  girl,  hardly." 

20.  "  Not  much  more'n  a  girl!"  It  gave  me  a  turn, 
sir,  as  though  I'd  seen  my  aunt  in  short  dresses. 

21.  "  It's  a  good  home  for  her,  though,"  he  went  on, 
slow.  "  I've  seen  a  lot  worse  ashore,  Ray.  Of  course  if 
I  could  get  a  shore  light " 

18-29.  Another  plot  incident  of  psychological  content,  like 
11-13.  The  boy's  struggle  is  renewed  and  increased  on  the  human 
side  by  Fedderson's  innocent  suggestion  that  Anna  is  little  more 
than  a  girl;  in  the  innocence  which  he  has  ascribed  to  himself 
(par.  1),  Johnson  had  not  before  recognized  awaredly  Anna's 
comparative  youth,  but  has  been  looking  on  her  in  the  light  of 
Fedderson's  wife,  necessarily  remote  from  and  indifferent  to  him. 
The  new  realization  puts  her  in  a  different  light  and  increases 
his  interest  in  her. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  441 

22.  "  Kingdom  Gome's  a  shore  light." 

23.  He  looked  at  me  out  of  his  deep-set  eyes,  and  then 
he  turned  them  around  the  light-room,  where  he'd  been  so 
long. 

24.  "  No,"  said  he,  wagging  his  head.  "  It  ain't  for 
such  as  me." 

25.  I  never  saw  so  humble  a  man. 

26.  "  But  look  here,"  he  went  on,  more  cheerful.  "  As 
I  was  telling  her  just  now,  a  month  from  yesterday's  our 
fourth  anniversary,  and  I'm  going  to  take  her  ashore  for 
the  day  and  give  her  a  holiday — new  hat  and  everything. 
A  girl  wants  a  mite  of  excitement  now  and  then,  Ray." 

27.  There  it  was  again,  that  "  girl."  It  gave  me  the 
fidgets^  sir.  I  had  to  do  something  about  it.  It's  close 
quarters  in  a  light  for  last  names,  and  I'd  taken  to  calling 
him  Uncle  Matt  soon  after  I  came.  Now,  when  I  was  at 
table  that  noon,  I  spoke  over  to  where  she  was  standing 
by  the  stove,  getting  him  another  help  of  chowder. 

28.  "  I  guess  I'll  have  some,  too,  Aunt  Anna,"  said  I, 
matter  of  fact. 

29.  She  never  said  a  word  nor  gave  a  sign — just  stood 
there  kind  of  round-shouldered,  dipping  the  chowder. 
And  that  night  at  prayers  I  hitched  my  chair  around  the 
table,  with  its  back  the  other  way. 

30.  You  get  awful  lazy  in  a  light-house,  some  ways. 
No  matter  how  much  tinkering  you've  got,  there's  still  a 


30.  A  paragraph  that  is  concerned  partly  with  mere  stage-set, 
partly  with  further  emphasis  of  motivating  environment,  partly 
with  suggestion  of  character-qualities  (in  Johnson),  but  descrip- 
tive in  method;  note  its  placing  between  two  significant  stages  of 
the  actional  narration  (i.e.,  occupying  one  of  the  "valleys"  or 
points  of  suspended  interest  in  the  course  of  the  action).     The 


442  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

lot  of  time,  and  there's  siu-li  a  thing  as  too  inueh  reading. 
The  changes  in  weather  get  monotonons,  too,  by  and  by ; 
the  light  bnrns  the  same  on  a  thick  night  as  it  does  on  a 
fair  one.  Of  course  there's  the  ships,  north-bound,  south- 
bound— wind-jammers,  freighters,  passenger-boats  full  of 
people.  In  the  watches  at  night  you  can  see  their  lights 
go  by,  and  wonder  what  they  are,  how  they're  laden,  where 
they'll  fetch  up,  and  all.  I  used  to  do  that  almost  every 
evening  when  it  was  my  first  watch,  sitting  out  on  the 
walk-around  up  there  with  my  legs  hanging  over  the  edge 
and  my  chin  propped  on  the  railing — lazy.  The  Boston 
boat  was  the  prettiest  to  see,  with  her  three  tiers  of  port- 
holes lit,  like  a  string  of  pearls  wrapped  round  and  round 
a  woman's  neck — well  away,  too,  for  the  ledge  must  have 
made  a  couple  of  hundred  fathoms  off  the  Light,  like 
a  white  dog-tooth  of  a  breaker,  even  on  the  darkest 
night. 

31.  Well,  I  w^as  lolling  there  one  night,  as  I  say,  watch- 
ing the  Boston  boat  go  by,  not  thinking  of  anything  spe- 
cial, when  I  heard  the  door  on  the  other  side  of  the  tower 
open  and  footsteps  coming  around  to  me. 

32.  By  and  by  I  nodded  toward  the  boat  and  passed  the 
remark  that  she  was  fetching  in  uncommon  close  tonight. 
No  answer.     I  made  nothing  of  that,  for  oftentimes  Fed- 


faneiful  and  imaginative — or  if  one  prefer,  the  dreamy — tendency 
of  Johnson's  mind  is  here  made  evident ;  and  this  quality  prepares 
us  for  and  helps  us  to  appreciate  the  eongruity  or  naturalness 
of  the  poetic  expressions  which  his  unbalanced  wits  frame  as 
Anna's  responses  to  him  when  she  appears  in  his  period  of  hal- 
lucination (see  especially  pars.  139-151).  Note  therefore  the 
preparatory,  or  motivating,  function  of  the  present  passage. 

32  ff.    The  boy's  shyness,  inexperience,  and  lack  of  knowledge 
how  to  deal  with  common  situations  in  life,  are  here  developed; 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  443 

derson  wouldn't  answer,  and  after  I'd  watched  the  lights 
crawling  on  through  the  dark  a  spell,  just  to  make  con- 
versation I  said  I  guessed  there'd  be  a  bit  of  weather  be- 
fore long. 

33.  "  I've  noticed,"  said  I,  "  when  there's  weather 
coming  on,  and  the  wind  in  the  northeast,  you  can  hear 
the  orchestra  playing  aboard  of  her  just  over  there.  I 
make  it  out  now.    Do  you  ?  " 

34.  "  Yes.     Oh— yes !    /  hear  it  all  right!  " 

35.  You  can  imagine  I  started.  It  Avasn't  him,  but 
her.  And  there  was  something  in  the  way  she  said  that 
speech,  sir — something — well — unnatural.  Like  a  hungry 
animal  snapping  at  a  person's  hand. 

36.  I  turned  and  looked  at  her  sidewise.  She  was 
standing  by  the  railing,  leaning  a  little  outward,  the  top 
of  her  from  the  waist  picked  out  bright  by  the  lens  behind 
her.  I  didn't  know  what  in  the  world  to  say,  and  yet  I 
had  a  feeling  I  ought  not  to  sit  there  mum. 

37.  "  I  wonder,"  said  I,  ''  what  that  captain's  thinking 
of,  fetching  in  so  handy  tonight.  It's  no  way.  I  tell  you, 
if  'twasn't  for  this  light,  she'd  go  to  work  and  pile  up  on 
the  ledge  some  thick  night " 

38.  She  turned  at  that  and  stared  straight  into  the 
lens.  I  didn't  like  the  look  of  her  face.  Somehow,  with 
its  edges  cut  hard  all  around  and  its  two  eyes  closed  down 
to  slits,  like  a  cat's,  it  made  a  kind  of  mask. 

39.  "  And  then,"   I  went  on,   uneasy  enough — "  and 


Anna's  longings  are  indicated,  and  the  bent  of  her  particular  mor- 
bidity shown  (49-51) ;  Johnson's  recoil  from  the  fascination  of  the 
woman  in  person,  and  from  the  passionate  intensity  of  her 
moodiness  represented  (he  is  not  able  to  grapple  with  such 
strange  manifestations  of  life). 


444  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

then  wliere'd  all  tlicir  music  be  of  a  sudden,  and  their 
goings-on  and  their  singing " 

40.  "  And  dancing !  "  She  clipped  me  off  so  quick  it 
took  my  breath. 

41.  "D-d-dancing?"  said  I. 

42.  "  That's  dance-music,"  said  she.  She  was  looking 
at  the  boat  again. 

43.  "  How  do  you  know  ?  "  I  felt  I  had  to  keep  on 
talking. 

44.  Well,  sir — she  laughed.  I  looked  at  her.  She  had 
on  a  shawl  of  some  stuff  or  other  that  shined  in  the  light ; 
she  had  it  pulled  tight  around  her  with  her  two  hands 
in  front  of  her  breast,  and  I  saw  her  shoulders  swaying 
in  tune. 

45.  "  How  do  I  know?  "  she  cried.  Then  she  laughed 
again,  the  same  kind  of  a  laugh.  It  was  queer,  sir,  to  see 
her,  and  to  hear  her.  She  turned,  as  quick  as  that,  and 
leaned  toward  me.  "  Don't  you  know  how  to  dance,  Ray  ?  " 
said  she. 

46.  "  N-no,"  I  managed,  and  I  was  going  to  say  "  Aunt 
Anna,"  but  the  thing  choked  in  my  throat.  I  tell  you  she 
was  looking  square  at  me  all  the  time  with  her  two  eyes' 
and  moving  with  the  music  as  if  she  didn't  know  it.  By 
Heavens,  sir,  it  came  over  me  of  a  sudden  that  she  wasn't 
so  bad  looking,  after  all.  I  guess  I  must  have  sounded 
like  a  fool. 

47.  "  You — you  see,"  said  I,  "  she's  cleared  the  rip 
there  now,  and  the  music's  gone.     You — you — hear  ?  " 

48.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  turning  back  slow.  "  That's 
where  it  stops  every  night — night  after  night — it  stops 
just  there — at  the  rip." 

49.  When  she  spoke  again  her  voice  was  different.     I 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  445 

never  heard  the  like  of  it,  thin  and  taut  as  a  thread.     It 
made  me  shiver,  sir. 

50.  "  I  hate  'em !  "  That's  what  she  said.  "  I  hate 
'em  all.  I'd  like  to  see  'em  dead.  I'd  love  to  see  'em  torn 
apart  on  the  rocks,  night  after  night.  I  could  bathe  my 
hands  in  their  blood,  night  after  night." 

51.  And  do  you  know,  sir,  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes, 
her  hands  moving  in  each  other  above  the  rail.  But  it 
was  her  voice,  though.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  or  what 
to  say,  so  I  poked  my  head  through  the  railing  and  looked 
down  at  the  water.  I  don't  think  I'm  a  coward,  sir,  but 
it  was  like  a  cold — ice-cold — hand,  taking  hold  of  my 
beating  heart. 

52.  When  I  looked  up  finally,  she  was  gone.  By  and 
by  I  went  in  and  had  a  look  at  the  lamp,  hardly  knowing 
what  I  was  about.  Then,  seeing  by  my  watch  it  was  time 
for  the  old  man  to  come  on  duty,  I  started  to  go  below. 
In  the  Seven  Brothers,  you  understand,  the  stair  goes 
down  in  a  spiral  through  a  well  against  the  south  wall,  and 
first  there's  the  door  to  the  keeper's  room,  and  then  you 
come  to  another,  and  that's  the  living-room,  and  then  down 
to  the  store-room.  And  at  night,  if  you  don't  carry  a 
lantern,  it's  as  black  as  the  pit. 

53.  Well,  down  I  went,  sliding  my  hand  along  the  rail, 
and  as  usual  I  stopped  to  give  a  rap  on  the  keeper's  door, 
in  case  he  was  taking  a  nap  after  supper.  Sometimes  he 
did. 

54.  I  stood  there,  blind  as  a  bat,  with  my  mind  still 
up  on  the  walk-around.   There  was  no  answer  to  my  knock. 


52-58.  Another  psyehologieal  intensifying-plot  developing  inci- 
dent, like  those  of  11-13  and  18-29.  Par.  55  affords  motivation 
for  the  effect  of  par.  86, 


44G  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

I  hadn't  expected  any.  Just  from  liabit,  and  with  my 
right  foot  already  hanging  down  for  the  next  step,  I 
reached  out  to  give  the  door  one  more  tap  for  luck. 

55.  Do  you  know,  sir,  my  hand  didn't  fetch  up  on 
anything.  The  door  had  been  there  a  second  before,  and 
now  the  door  wasn't  there.  My  hand  just  went  on  going 
through  the  dark,  on  and  on,  and  I  didn't  seem  to  have 
sense  or  power  enough  to  stop  it.  There  didn't  seem  any 
air  in  the  well  to  breathe,  and  my  ears  were  drumming 
to  the  surf — that's  how  scared  I  was.  And  then  my  hand 
touched  the  flesh  of  a  face,  and  something  in  the  dark 
said,  ''  Oh !  "  no  louder  than  a  sigh. 

56.  Next  thing  I  know,  sir,  I  was  down  in  the  living- 
room,  warm  and  yellows-lit,  with  Fedderson  cocking  his 
head  at  me  across  the  table,  where  he  was  at  that  eternal 
Jacob's-ladder  of  his. 

57.  "What's  the  matter,  Eay?"  said  he.  "Lord's 
sake,  Eay!  " 

58.  "  I^othing,"  said  I.  Then  I  think  I  told  him  I  was 
sick.  That  night  I  wrote  a  letter  to  A.  L.  Peters,  the 
grain-dealer  in  Duxbury,  asking  for  a  job — even  though  it 
wouldn't  go  ashore  for  a  couple  of  wrecks,  just  the  writing 
of  it  made  me  feel  better. 

59.  It's  hard  to  tell  you  how  those  two  weeks  went  by. 
I  don't  know  why,  but  I  felt  like  hiding  in  a  corner  all 
the  time.  I  had  to  come  to  meals.  But  I  didn't  look  at 
her,  though,  not  once,  unless  it  was  by  accident.  Fedder- 
son thought  I  was  still  ailing  and  nagged  me  to  death 
with  advice  and  so  on.  One  thing  I  too'k  care  not  to  do, 
I  can  tell  you,  and  that  was  to  knock  on  his  door  till  I'd 


59.    Coneentrative :  continued  mood. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  447 

made  certain  be  wasn't  below  in  tbe  living-room — tbough 
I  was  tempted  to. 

GO.  Yes,  sir;  that's  a  queer  tbing,  and  I  wouldn't  tell 
you  if  I  badu't  set  out  to  give  you  tbe  trutb.  Nigbt  after 
nigbt,  stopj)ing  tbere  on  tbe  landing  in  tbat  black  pit,  tbe 
air  gone  out  of  my  lungs  and  tbe  surf  drumming  in  my 
ears  and  sweat  standing  cold  on  my  neck — and  one  band 
lifting  up  in  tbe  air — God  forgive  me,  sir !  Maybe  I  did 
wrong  not  to  look  at  ber  more,  drooping  about  ber  work 
in  ber  gingbam  apron,  witb  ber  bair  stringing. 

61.  Wben  tbe  Inspector  came  off  witb  tbe  tender,  tbat 
time,  I  told  bim  I  was  tbrougb.  Tbat's  wben  be  took  tbe 
dislike  to  me,  I  guess,  for  be  looked  at  me  kind  of  sneer- 
ing and  said,  soft  as  I  was,  I'd  bave  to  put  up  witb  it  till 
next  relief.  And  tben,  said  be,  tbere'd  be  a  wbole  bouse- 
cleaning  at  Seven  Brothers  because  be'd  gotten  Fedderson 
tbe  bertb  at  Kingdom  Come.  And  witb  tbat  be  slapped 
tbe  old  man  on  tbe  back. 

62.  I  wisb  you  could  bave  seen  Fedderson,  sir.  He 
sat  down  on  my  cot  as  if  bis  knees  bad  given  'way.  Happy  ? 
You'd  tbink  be'd  be  bappy,  witb  all  bis  dreams  come  true. 
Yes,  be  was  bappy,  beaming  all  over — for  a  minute. 
Tben,  sir,  be  began  to  sbrivel  up.     It  was  like  seeing  a 


60.  Continues  the  effect  of  59;  reveals  anew  the  direction  in 
which  his  thoughts  ran,  and  keeps  his  disturbed  state  of  mind 
before  us. 

61.  "  A  whole  house-cleanino' " :  The  inspector  regarded  Ray 
as  "  soft  "  and  flighty — undependable — and  realized  that  Anna 
was  dangerous  about  a  lighthouse,  owing  to  her  angry  and  re- 
vengeful moodiness  (she  might  do  something  to  cause  a  wreck; 
pars.  50  and  70-74). 

62-66.  Impressive  instance  of  the  warped  feelings  developed  in 
Fedderson  (environmental  influence,  as  throughout  the  story). 


448  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

man  cut  down  in  bis  i)rinic  before  your  eyes.     He  began 
to  wag  his  head. 

03.  "  ]^o/'  said  he.  "  'No,  no;  it's  not  for  such  as  me. 
I'm  good  enough  for  Seven  Brothers,  and  that's  all,  Mr. 
Bayliss.     That's  all." 

64.  And  for  all  the  Inspector  could  say,  that's  what  he 
stuck  to.  He'd  figured  himself  a  martyr  so  many  j^ears, 
nursed  that  injustice  like  a  mother  with  her  first-born, 
sir;  and  now  in  his  old  age,  so  to  speak,  they  weren't  to 
rob  him  of  it.  Fedderson  was  going  to  w^ear  out  his  life 
in  a  second-class  light,  and  folks  would  talk — that  was  his 
idea.  I  heard  him  hailing  down  as  the  tender  was  casting 
off: 

65.  "  See  you  tomorrow,  Mr.  Bayliss.  Yep.  Coming 
ashore  with  the  w'ife  for  a  spree.     Anniversary.    Yep." 

66.  But  he  didn't  sound  much  like  a  spree.  They  had 
robbed  him,  partly,  after  all.  I  wondered  what  she 
thought  about  it.  I  didn't  know  till  night.  She  didn't 
show  up  to  supper,  which  Fedderson  and  I  got  ourselves 
— had  a  headache,  he  said.  It  was  my  early  watch.  I 
went  and  lit  up  and  came  back  to  read  a  spell.  He  was 
finishing  off  the  Jacob's-ladder,  and  thoughtful,  like  a  man 
that's  lost  a  treasure.  Once  or  twice  I  caught  him  looking 
about  the  room  on  the  sly.     It  was  pathetic,  sir. 

67.  Going  up  the  second  time,  I  stepped  out  on  the 
walk-around  to  have  a  look  at  things.  She  was  there  on 
the  seaward  side,  wrapped  in  that  silky  thing.  A  fair  sea 
was  running  across  the  ledge  and  it  was  coming  on  a  little 
thick — ^not  too  thick.  Off  to  the  right  the  Boston  boat  was 
blowing,  whroom-whroom !  creeping  up  on  us,  quarter- 
speed.  There  was  another  fellow  behind  her,  and  a  fisher- 
man's conch  farther  off-shore. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  449 

68.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  stopped  beside  her  and 
leaned  on  the  rail.  She  didn't  appear  to  notice  me,  one 
way  or  another.  We  stood  and  we  stood,  listening  to  the 
whistles,  and  the  longer  we  stood  the  more  it  got  on  my 
nerves,  her  not  noticing  me.  I  suppose  she'd  been  too 
much  on  my  mind  lately.  I  began  to  be  put  out.  I 
scraped  my  feet.     I  coughed.    By  and  by  I  said  out  loud : 

69.  "  Look  here,  I  guess  I  better  get  out  the  fog-horn 
and  give  those  fellows  a  toot." 

70.  "  Why  ?  "  said  she,  without  moving  her  head — 
calm  as  that. 

Yl.  ''  Why?"  It  gave  me  a  turn,  sir.  For  a  minute 
I  stared  at  her.  "  Why  ?  Because  if  she  don't  pick  up 
this  light  before  very  many  minutes  she'll  be  too  close  in 
to  wear — tide  '11  have  her  on  the  rocks — that's  why !  " 

72.  I  couldn't  see  her  face,  but  I  could  see  one  of  her 
silk  shoulders  lift  a  little,  like  a  shrug.  And  there  I  kept 
on  staring  at  her,  a  dumb  one,  sure  enough.  I  know  what 
brought  me  to  was  hearing  the  Boston  boat's  three  sharp 
toots  as  she  picked  up  the  light — mad  as  anything — and 
swung  her  helm  a-port.  I  turned  away  from  her,  sweat 
stringing  down  my  face,  and  walked  around  to  the  door. 
It  was  just  as  well,  too,  for  the  feed-pipe  was  plugged  in 
the  lamp  and  the  wicks  were  popping.  She'd  have  been 
out  in  another  five  minutes,  sir. 

73.  When  I'd  finished,  I  saw  that  woman  standing  in 
the  doorway.  Her  eyes  were  bright.  I  had  a  horror  of 
her,  sir,  a  living  horror. 

74.  "  If  only  the  light  had  been  out,"  said  she,  low 
and  sweet. 

75.  "  God  forgive  you,"  said  I.  "  You  don't  know 
what  you're  saying," 


450  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

70.  She  went  down  the  stair  into  the  well,  winding 
out  of  sight,  and  as  long  as  I  could  see  her,  her  eyes  were 
watching  mine.  When  I  went,  myself,  after  a  few  min- 
utes, she  was  waiting  for  me  on  that  first  landing,  stand- 
ing still  in  the  dark.  She  took  hold  of  my  hand,  though 
I  tried  to  get  it  away. 

77.  "  Good-by,"  said  she  in  my  ear. 

78.  "  Good-by  ?  "  said  I.     I  didn't  understand. 

79.  "  You  heard  what  he  said  today — about  Kingdom 
Come  ?  Be  it  so — on  his  own  head.  I'll  never  come  back 
here.  Once  I  set  foot  ashore — I've  got  friends  in  Bright- 
onboro,  Ray." 

80.  I  got  away  from  her  and  started  on  down.  But 
I  stopped.  "  Brightonboro  ?  "  I  whispered  back.  "  Why 
do  you  tell  me  ?  "  My  throat  was  raw  to  the  words,  like 
a  sore. 

81.  "  So  you'd  know,"  said  she. 

82.  Well,  sir,  I  saw  them  off  next  morning,  down  that 
new^  Jacob's-ladder  into  the  dinghy-boat,  her  in  a  dress 
of  blue  velvet  and  him  in  his  best  cutaway  and  derby — 
rowing  away,  smaller  and  smaller,  the  two  of  them.  And 
then  I  went  back  and  sat  on  my  cot,  leaving  the  door  open 
and  the  ladder  still  hanging  down  the  wall,  along  with  the 
boat  falls. 

83.  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  relief,  or  what.     I 


76-82,  Next  to  the  last  straw  laid  on  his  endurance ;  the  woman 
on  whom  his  thought  had  been  unwholesomely  centered  is  leaving, 
and  inviting  him  to  find  her  later.  Pars.  82-83  express  the  reac- 
tion. This  relieves  his  mind,  and  in  the  normalizing  interest  of 
his  duties  he  reverts  temporarily  to  light-heartedness  and  confi- 
dence. (These  oscillations  between  contrary  moods  are  charac- 
teristic of  mental  aberration ;  hence  these  contrast-passages,  giv- 
ing artistic  relief,  are  true  to  psycliological  experience  also.) 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Beotheks  451 

suppose  I  must  have  been  worked  up  even  more  than  I'd 
thought  those  past  weeks,  for  now  it  was  all  over  I  was 
like  a  rag.  I  got  down  on  my  knees,  sir,  and  prayed  to 
God  for  the  salvation  of  my  soul,  and  when  I  got  up  and 
climbed  to  the  living-room  it  was  half-past  twelve  by  the 
clock.  There  was  rain  on  the  windows  and  the  sea  was 
running  blue-black  under  the  sun.  I'd  sat  there  all  that 
time  not  knowing  there  was  a  squall. 

84.  It  was  funny ;  the  glass  stood  high,  but  those  black 
squalls  kept  coming  and  going  all  afternoon,  while  I  was 
at  work  up  in  the  light-room.  And  I  worked  hard,  to 
keep  myself  busy.  First  thing  I  knew  it  was  five,  and  no 
sign  of  the  boat  yet.  It  began  to  get  dim  and  kind  of 
purplish-gray  over  the  land.  The  sun  was  down.  I  lit 
up,  made  everything  snug,  and  got  out  the  night-glasses  to 
have  another  look  for  that  boat.  He'd  said  he  intended 
to  get  back  before  five.  'No  sign.  And  then,  standing 
there,  it  came  over  me  that  of  course  he  wouldn't  be  com- 
ing off — he'd  be  hunting  /«er,  poor  old  fool.  It  looked  like 
I  had  to  stand  two  men's  watches  that  night. 

85.  Never  mind.  I  felt  like  myself  again,  even  if  I 
hadn't  had  any  dinner  or  supper.  Pride  came  to  me  that 
night  on  the  walk-around,  watching  the  boats  go  by — lit- 


85.  Observe  the  lack  of  food — apparently  not  missed.  Neglect 
of  ordered  hours,  bodily  care  and  sustenance,  etc.,  are  further 
aspects  of  mental  derangement.  Johnson's  failure  to  take  food  is, 
too,  an  item  of  motivation  for  his  nervous  state.  From  this  time 
on  he  takes  no  nourishment  (par.  87) — enough  in  itself  to  disturb 
the  nerves  violently.  Even  normal  persons  under  the  strain  of 
hunger  and  labor  occasionally  "  see  things  "  under  such  condi- 
tions. This  is  what  happened  to  Johnson  in  97-88  (after  the 
shock  of  86),  but  he  is  still  sufficiently  master  of  himself  to  realize 
the  difference  between  "  the  shadow  and  the  substance."  Con- 
cerning par.  86,  see  introd.  n.  7  (D). 


452  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzed 

tie  boats,  big  boats,  the  Boston  boat  with  all  her  pearls  and 
her  dance-music.  They  couldn't  see  me ;  they  didn't  know 
who  I  was;  but  to  the  last  of  them,  they  depended  on  me. 
They  say  a  man  must  be  born  again.  Well,  I  was  born 
again.     I  breathed  deep  in  the  wind. 

80.  Dawn  broke  hard  and  red  as  a  dying  coal.  I  put 
out  the  light  and  started  to  go  below.  Born  again ;  yes, 
sir.  I  felt  so  good  I  whistled  in  the  well,  and  when  I 
came  to  that  first  door  on  the  stair  I  reached  out  in  the 
dark  to  give  it  a  rap  for  luck.  And  then,  sir,  the  hair 
prickled  all  over  my  scalp,  when  I  found  my  hand  just 
going  on  and  on  through  the  air,  the  same  as  it  had  gone 
once  before,  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  wanted  to  yell,  because 
I  thought  I  was  going  to  touch  flesh.  It's  funny  what 
their  just  forgetting  to  close  their  door  did  to  me, 
isn't  it? 

87.  Well,  I  reached  for  the  latch  and  pulled  it  to  with 
a  bang  and  ran  down  as  if  a  ghost  was  after  me.  I  got 
up  some  coffee  and  bread  and  bacon  for  breakfast.  I 
drank  the  coffee.  But  somehow  I  couldn't  eat,  all  along 
of  that  open  door.  The  light  in  the  room  was  blood.  I 
got  to  thinking.  I  thought  how  she'd  talked  about  those 
men,  women,  and  children  on  the  rocks,  and  how^  she'd 
made  to  bathe  her  hands  over  the  rail.  I  almost  jumped 
out  of  my  chair  then ;  it  seemed  for  a  wink  she  was  there 
beside  the  stove,  watching  me  with  that  queer  half-smile 
— really,  I  seemed  to  see  her  for  a  flash  across  the  red 
table-cloth  in  the  red  light  of  dawn. 

88.  "  Look  here !  "  said  I  to  myself,  sharp  enough ; 
and  then  I  gave  myself  a  good  laugh  and  went  below. 
There  I  took  a  look  out  of  the  door,  which  was  still  open, 
with  the  ladder  hanging  down.     I  made  sure  to  see  the 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  453 

poor  old  fool  come  pulling  around  the  point  before  very 
long  now. 

89.  My  boots  were  hurting  a  little,  and,  taking  them 
oif,  I  lay  down  on  the  cot  to  rest,  and  somehow  I  went  to 
sleep.  I  had  horrible  dreams.  I  saw  her  again  standing 
in  that  blood-red  kitchen,  and  she  seemed  to  be  washing 
her  hands,  and  the  surf  on  the  ledge  was  whining  up  the 
tower,  louder  and  louder  all  the  time,  and  what  it  whined 
was,  "  Night  after  night — night  after  night."  What 
woke  me  was  cold  water  in  my  face. 

90.  The  store-room  was  in  gloom.  That  scared  me  at 
first ;  I  thought  night  had  come,  and  remembered  the  light. 
But  then  I  saw  the  gloom  was  of  a  storm.  The  floor  was 
shining  wet,  and  the  water  in  my  face  was  spray,  flung 
up  through  the  open  door.  When  I  ran  to  close  it  it  almost 
made  me  dizzy  to  see  the  gray-and-white  breakers  march- 
ing past.  The  land  was  gone ;  the  sky  shut  down  heavy 
overhead ;  there  was  a  piece  of  wreckage  on  the  back  of 
a  swell,  and  the  Jacob's-ladder  was  carried  clean  away. 
How  that  sea  had  picked  up  so  quick  I  can't  think.  I 
looked  at  my  watch  and  it  wasn't  four  in  the  afternoon 
yet. 

91.  When  I  closed  the  door,  sir,  it  was  almost  dark  in 
the  store-room.  I'd  never  been  in  the  Light  before  in  a 
gale  of  wind.  I  wondered  why  I  was  shivering  so,  till  I 
found  it  was  the  floor  below  me  shivering,  and  the  walls 
and  stair.     Horrible  crunchings  and  grindings  ran  away 

89-93.  Rapid  return  of  his  disordered  state.  What  with  lone- 
someness,  repressed  physical  desire,  mental  struggle,  morbid  intro- 
spection, and  immediate  lack  of  food,  he  is  no  longer  in  control  of 
himself.  From  the  closing  part  of  93  onward,  he  is  suffering 
hallucination,  against  which  his  will  offers  but  spasmodic  ^nd 
feeble  resistance. 


454  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

up  tlie  tower,  and  now  and  then  there  was  a  great  thud 
somewhere,  like  a  cannon-shot  in  a  cave.  I  tell  joii,  sir, 
I  was  alone,  and  I  was  in  a  mortal  fright  for  a  minute 
or  so.  And  yet  I  had  to  get  myself  together.  There  was 
the  light  up  there  not  tended  to,  and  an  early  dark  coming 
on  and  a  heavy  night  and  all,  and  I  had  to  go.  And  I 
had  to  pass  that  door. 

92.  "  You'll  say  it's  foolish,  sir,  and  maybe  it  icas 
foolish.  Maybe  it  was  because  I  hadn't  eaten.  But  I 
began  thinking  of  that  door  up  there  the  minute  I  set  foot 
on  the  stair,  and  all  the  way  up  through  that  howling 
dark  well  I  dreaded  to  pass  it.  I  told  myself  I  wouldn't 
stop.  I  didn't  stop.  I  felt  the  landing  underfoot  and  I 
went  on,  four  steps,  five — and  then  I  couldn't.  I  turned 
and  went  back.  I  put  out  my  hand  and  it  went  on  into 
nothing.     That  door,  sir,  was  open  again. 

93.  I  left  it  be ;  I  went  on  up  to  the  light-room  and  set 
to  work.  It  was  Bedlam  there,  sir,  screeching  Bedlam, 
but  I  took  no  notice.  I  kept  my  eyes  down.  I  trimmed 
those  seven  wicks,  sir,  as  neat  as  ever  they  were  trimmed; 
I  polished  the  brass  till  it  shone,  and  I  dusted  the  lens. 
It  wasn't  till  that  was  done  that  I  let  myself  look  back  to 
see  who  it  was  standing  there,  half  out  of  sight  in  the 
well.     It  was  her,  sir. 

94.  "  Where'd  you  come  from  ?  "  I  asked.  I  remember 
my  voice  was  sharp. 

94:  ff.  Lacking  the  inhibitions  of  reason,  Johnson's  mind  now 
brings  to  the  surface  and  gives  concrete  form  to  feelings  and 
thoughts  that  so  long  had  seethed  in  it.  Accordingly,  we  find  him 
imagining  an  Anna  beautiful  and  enticing,  and  putting  on  her  lips 
the  expression  of  his  own  poetic  and  dreamy  fancies  (cf.  n.  on 
30).  We  have  now  reached  the  climactic  height  of  the  story, 
which  continues  to  154.    The  intensity  is  produced  by  the  realiza- 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothees  455 

95.  "  Up  Jacob's-ladder,"  said  she,  and  hers  was  like 
the  syrup  of  flowers. 

96.  I  shook  my  head.  I  was  savage,  sir.  "  The  lad- 
der's carried  away." 

97.  "  I  cast  it  off,"  said  she,  with  a  smile. 

98.  "  Then,"  said  I,  "  you  must  ha^  e  come  while  I  was 
asleep."  Another  thought  came  on  me,  heavy  as  a  ton  of 
lead.     "  And  where's  he  ?  "  said  I.     "  Where's  the  boat  ?  " 

99.  "  He's  drowned,"  said  she,  as  easy  as  that.  "  And 
I  let  the  boat  go  adrift.  You  wouldn't  hear  me  when  I 
called." 

100.  "  But  look  here,"  said  I.  "  If  you  came  through 
the  store-room,  why  didn't  you  wake  me  up?  Tell  me 
that  ?  "  It  sounds  foolish  enough,  me  standing  like  a 
lawyer  in  court,  trying  to  prove  she  couldnt  be  there. 

101.  She  didn't  answer  for  a  moment.  I  guess  she 
sighed,  though  I  couldn't  hear  for  the  gale,  and  her  eyes 
grew  soft,  sir,  so  soft. 

102.  "  I  couldn't,"  said  she.  "  You  looked  so  peace- 
ful— dear  one." 

103.  My  cheeks  and  neck  went  hot,  sir,  as  if  a  warm 
iron  was  laid  on  them.     I  didn't  know  what  to  say.     I 

began  to  stammer,  "  What  do  you  mean "     but  she 

was  going  back  down  the  stair,  out  of  sight.     My  God ! 
sir,  and  I  used  not  to  think  she  was  good-looking! 

104.  I  started  to  follow  her.     I  wanted  to  know  what 


tion  of  Johnson's  visions  and  his  passionate  delusions.  Even  this 
state  in  him  is  not,  however,  constant.  Thus  in  107  he  sud- 
denly fancies  Anna  a  devil  (recurrence  of  his  dogmatic  religious 
training),  and  at  the  same  time  feels  the  compulsion  of  will 
to  light  up  as  duty  requires.  Following  this  comes  a  flash  of 
natural  human  perversity  (114-117) ;  but  his  wanderings  all  come 
back  quickly  to  her  as  the  object  of  his  longing. 


456  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

she  meant.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  "  If  I  don't  go — if  I 
wait  here — she'll  come  back."  And  I  went  to  the  weather 
side  and  stood  looking  out  of  the  window.  Not  that  there 
was  much  to  see.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  the  Seven 
Brothers  looked  like  the  mane  of  a  running  horse,  a  great, 
vast,  white  horse  running  into  the  wind.  The  air  was 
a-welter  with  it.  I  caught  one  peep  of  a  fisherman,  lying 
down  flat  trying  to  weather  the  ledge,  and  I  said,  "  God 
help  them  all  tonight,"  and  then  I  went  hot  at  sound  of 
that  "  God." 

105.  I  was  right  about  her,  though.  She  was  back 
again.  I  wanted  her  to  speak  first,  before  I  turned,  but 
she  wouldn't.  I  didn't  hear  her  go  out;  I  didn't  know 
what  she  was  up  to  till  I  saw  her  coming  outside  on  the 
walk-around,  drenched  wet  already.  I  pounded  on  the 
glass  for  her  to  come  in  and  not  be  a  fool;  if  she  heard 
she  gave  no  sign  of  it. 

lOG.  There  she  stood,  and  there  I  stood  watching  her. 
Lord,  sir — was  it  just  that  I'd  never  had  eyes  to  see?  Or 
are  there  women  who  bloom  ?  Her  clothes  were  shining 
on  her,  like  a  carving,  and  her  hair  was  let  down  like  a 
golden  curtain  tossing  and  streaming  in  the  gale,  and  there 
she  stood  with  her  lips  half  open,  drinking,  and  her  eyes 
half-closed,  gazing  straight  away  over  the  Seven  Brothers, 
and  her  shoulders  swaying,  as  if  in  tune  with  the  wind 
and  water  and  all  the  ruin.  And  when  I  looked  at  her 
hands  over  the  rail,  sir,  they  were  moving  in  each  other 
as  if  they  bathed,  and  then  I  remembered,  sir. 

107.  A  cold  horror  took  me.  I  knew  now  why  she  had 
come  back  again.  She  wasn't  a  woman — she  was  a  devil. 
I  turned  my  back  on  her.  I  said  to  myself:  "It's  time 
to  light  up.    You've  got  to  light  up  " — like  that,  over  and 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  457 

over,  out  loud.  My  hand  was  shivering  so  I  could  hardly 
find  a  match ;  and  when  I  scratched  it,  it  only  flared  a 
second  and  then  went  out  in  the  back  draught  from  the 
open  door.  She  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  looking  at 
me.  It's  queer,  sir,  but  I  felt  like  a  child  caught  in 
mischief. 

108.  "  I — I — was  going  to  light  up,"  I  managed  to 
say,  finally. 

109.  "  Why  ?"  said  she.    No,  I  can't  say  it  as  she  did. 

110.  "  Why?"  said  I.    "Mij  God!" 

111.  She  came  nearer,  laughing,  as  if  with  pity,  low, 
you  know.  "  Your  God  ?  And  who  is  your  God  ?  What 
is  God  ?     What  is  anything  on  a  night  like  this  ?  " 

112.  I  drew  back  from  her.  All  I  could  say  anything 
about  was  the  light. 

113.  "  Why  not  the  dark  ?  "  said  she.  "  Dark  is  softer 
than  light — tenderer — dearer  than  light.  From  the  dark 
up  here,  away  up  here  in  the  wind  and  storm,  we  can 
watch  the  ships  go  by,  you  and  I.  And  you  love  me  so. 
You've  loved  me  so  long,  Ray." 

114.  "  I  never  have !  "  I  struck  out  at  her.  "  I  don't! 
I  don't !  " 

115.  Her  voice  was  lower  than  ever,  but  there  was  the 
same  laughing  pity  in  it.  "  Oh  yes,  you  have."  And  she 
was  near  me  again, 

116.  "I  have  ?  "  I  yelled.  "  I'll  show  you !  I'll  show 
you  if  I  have !  " 

117.  I  got  another  match,  sir,  and  scratched  it  on  the 
brass.  I  gave  it  to  the  first  wick,  the  little  wick  that's 
inside  all  the  others.  It  bloomed  like  a  yellow  flower. 
''  I  have  ?  "  1  yelled,  and  gave  it  to  the  next. 

118.  Then  there  was  a  shadow,  and  I  saw  she  was 


458  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

leaning  bcsiJc  me,  her  two  elbows  on  the  brass,  her  two 
arms  stretched  out  above  the  wicks,  her  bare  forearms  and 
wrists  and  hands.     I  gave  a  gasp : 

119.  "Take  care!  You'll  burn  them!  For  God's 
sake " 

120.  She  didn't  move  or  speak.  The  match  burned  my 
fingers  and  went  out,  and  all  I  could  do  was  stare  at  those 
arms  of  hers,  helpless.  I'd  never  noticed  her  arms  before. 
They  were  rounded  and  graceful  and  covered  with  a  soft 
down,  like  a  breath  of  gold.  Then  I  heard  her  speaking, 
close  to  my  ear.  "  Pretty  arms,"  she  said.  "  Pretty 
arms !  " 

121.  I  turned.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  mine.  They 
seemed  heavy,  as  if  with  sleep,  and  yet  between  their  lids 
they  were  tw^o  wells,  deep  and  deep,  and  as  if  they  held  all 
the  things  I'd  ever  thought  or  dreamed  in  them.  I  looked 
away  from  them,  at  her  lips.  Her  lips  were  red  as  pop- 
pies, heavy  w'ith  redness.  They  moved,  and  I  heard  them 
speaking : 

122.  "  Poor  boy,  you  love  me  so,  and  you  want  to  kiss 
me — don't  you  ?  " 

123.  "No,"  said  I.  But  I  couldn't  turn  around.  I 
looked  at  her  hair.  I'd  always  thought  it  was  stringy  hair. 
Some  hair  curls  naturally  with  damp,  they  say,  and  per- 
haps that  was  it,  for  there  were  pearls  of  wet  on  it,  and  it 
was  thick  and  shimmering  around  her  face,  making  soft 
shadows  by  the  temples.  There  was  green  in  it,  queer 
strands  of  green  like  braids. 

124.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I. 

125.  "  I^othing  but  weed,"  said  she,  with  that  slow, 
sleepy  smile. 

126.  Somehow  or  other  I  felt  calmer  than  I  had  any 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  459 

time.  "  Look  here,"  said  I.  "  I'm  going  to  light  this 
lamp."  I  took  out  a  match,  scratched  it,  and  touched  the 
third  wick.  The  flame  ran  around,  bigger  than  the  other 
two  together.  But  still  her  arms  hung  there.  I  bit  my 
lip.  ''  By  God,  I  will!  "  said  I  to  myself,  and  I  lit  the 
fourth. 

127.  It  was  fierce,  sir,  fierce!  And  yet  those  arms 
never  trembled.  I  had  to  look  around  at  her.  Her  eyes 
were  still  looking  into  mine,  so  deep  and  deep,  and  her 
red  lips  were  still  smiling  with  that  queer  sleepy  droop; 
the  only  thing  was  that  tears  were  raining  down  her 
cheeks — big,  glowing,  round,  jewel  tears.  It  wasn't  hu- 
man, sir.    It  was  like  a  dream. 

128.  "  Pretty  arms,"  she  sighed,  and  then,  as  if  those 
words  had  broken  something  in  her  heart,  there  came  a 
great  sob  bursting  from  her  lips.  To  hear  it  drove  me 
mad.  I  reached  to  drag  her  away,  but  she  was  too  quick, 
sir ;  she  cringed  from  me  and  slipped  out  f rorii  between  my 
hands.  It  was  like  she  faded  away,  sir,  and  went  down 
in  a  bundle,  nursing  her  poor  arms  and  mourning  over 
them  with  those  terrible,  broken  sobs. 

129.  The  sound  of  them  took  the  manhood  out  of  me — 
you'd  have  been  the  same,  sir.  I  knelt  down  beside  her 
on  the  floor  and  covered  my  face. 

130.  "  Please,"  I  moaned.  "  Please !  Please  !  "  That's 
all  I  could  say.  I  wanted  her  to  forgive  me.  I  reached 
out  a  hand,  blind,  for  forgiveness,  and  I  couldn't  find  her 
anywhere.  I  had  hurt  her  so,  and  she  was  afraid  of  me, 
of  me^  sir  who  loved  her  so  deep  it  drove  me  crazy. 

131.  I  could  see  her  down  the  stair,  though  it  was  dim 
and  my  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  I  stumbled  after  her, 
crying,  "  Please!    Please!  "    The  little  wicks  I'd  lit  were 


400  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

blowing  in  the  wind  from  the  door  and  smoking  the  glass 
beside  them  black.  One  went  out.  I  pleaded  with  them, 
the  same  as  I  would  plead  with  a  human  being.  I  said 
I'd  be  back  in  a  second.  I  promised.  And  I  went  on 
down  the  stair,  crying  like  a  baby  because  I'd  hurt  her, 
and  she  was  afraid  of  me — of  me,  sir. 

132.  She  had  gone  into  her  room.  The  door  was  closed 
against  me  and  I  could  hear  her  sobbing  beyond  it,  broken- 
hearted. My  heart  was  broken,  too.  I  beat  on  the  door 
with  my  palms.  I  begged  her  to  forgive  me.  I  told  her 
I  loved  her.  And  all  the  answer  was  that  sobbing  in  the 
dark. 

133.  And  then  I  lifted  the  latch  and  went  in,  groping, 
pleading.     "  Dearest — please !     Because  I  love  you  !  " 

134.  I  heard  her  speak  down  near  the  floor.  There 
wasn't  any  anger  in  her  voice ;  nothing  but  sadness  and 
despair. 

135.  "  jSTo,"  said  she.  "  You  don't  love  me,  Ray. 
You  never  have." 

136.  "I  do!    I  have!" 

137.  "  iSTo,  no,"  said  she,  as  if  she  was  tired  out. 

138.  "  Where  are  you  ?  "  I  was  groping  for  her.  I 
thought,  and  lit  a  match.  She  had  got  to  the  door  and 
was  standing  there  as  if  ready  to  fly.  I  went  toward  her, 
and  she  made  me  stop.  She  took  my  breath  away.  "  I 
hurt  your  arms,"  said  I,  in  a  dream. 

139.  "  No,"  said  she,  hardly  moving  her  lips.  She 
held  them  out  to  the  match's  light  for  me  to  look,  and 
there  was  never  a  scar  on  them — not  even  that  soft,  golden 
down  was  singed,  sir.  "  You  can't  hurt  my  body,"  said 
she,  sad  as  anything.  "Only  my  heart,  Ray;  my  poor 
heart." 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Beotheks  461 

140.  I  tell  you  again,  she  took  my  breath  away.  I  lit 
another  match.  "  How  can  you  be  so  beautiful  ?  "  I  won- 
dered. 

141.  She  answered  in  riddles — but  oh,  the  sadness  of 
her,  sir. 

142.  "  Because,"  said  she,  "  I've  always  so  wanted  to 
be." 

143.  "  How  come  your  eyes  so  heavy  ?  "  said  I. 

144.  "  Because  I've  seen  so  many  things  I  never 
dreamed  of,"  said  she. 

145.  "  How  come  your  hair  so  thick  ?  " 

146.  "  It's  the  seaweed  makes  it  thick,"  said  she,  smil- 
ing queer,  queer. 

147.  "  How  come  seaweed  there  ?  " 

148.  "  Out  of  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

149.  She  talked  in  riddles,  but  it  was  like  poetry  to 
hear  her,  or  a  song. 

150.  "  How  come  your  lips  so  red  ?  "  said  I. 

151.  "  Because  they've  wanted  so  long  to  be 
kissed." 

152.  Fire  was  on  me,  sir,  I  reached  out  to  catch  her, 
but  she  was  gone,  out  of  the  door  and  down  the  stair.  I 
followed,  stumbling.  I  must  have  tripped  on  the  turn,  for 
I  remember  going  through  the  air  and  fetching  up  with 
a  crash,  and  I  didn't  know  anything  for  a  spell — how  long 
I  can't  say.  When  I  came  to,  she  was  there,  somewhere, 
bending  over  me,  crooning,  "  My  love — my  love-^"  under 
her  breath  like  a  song. 

153.  But  then  when  I  got  up,  she  was  not  where  my 
arms  went ;  she  was  down  the  stair  again,  just  ahead  of 
me.  I  followed  her.  I  was  tottering  and  dizzy  and  full 
of  pain.     I  tried  to  catch  up  with  her  in  the  dark  of  the 


462  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

store-room,  but  she  was  too  quick  for  me,  sir,  always  a 
little  too  quick  for  mc.  Oh,  she  was  cruel  to  me,  sir.  I 
kept  bumping'  against  things,  hurting  myself  still  worse, 
and  it  was  cold  and  wet  and  a  horrible  noise  all  the  while, 
sir;  and  then,  sir,  I  found  the  door  was  open,  and  a  sea 
had  parted  the  hinges. 

15-i.  I  don't  know  how  it  all  went,  sir.  I'd  tell  you 
if  I  could,  but  it's  all  so  blurred — sometimes  it  seems  more 
like  a  dream.  I  couldn't  find  her  any  more;  I  couldn't 
hear  her ;  I  went  all  over,  everywhere.  Once,  I  remember, 
I  found  myself  hanging  out  of  that  door  between  the 
davits,  looking  down  into  those  big  black  seas  and  crying 
like  a  baby.  It's  all  riddles  and  blur.  I  can't  seem  to  tell 
you  much,  sir.     It  was  all — all — I  don't  know. 

155.  I  was  talking  to  somebody  else — not  her.  It  was 
the  Inspector.  I  hardly  knew  it  was  the  Inspector.  His 
face  was  as  gray  as  a  blanket,  and  his  eyes  were  blood- 
shot, and  his  lips  were  twisted.  His  left  wrist  hung  down, 
awkward.  It  was  broken  coming  aboard  the  Light  in  that 
sea.  Yes,  we  were  in  the  living-room.  Yes,  sir,  it  was 
daylight — gray  daylight.  I  tell  you,  sir,  the  man  looked 
crazy  to  me.  He  was  waving  his  good  arm  toward  the 
w^eather  windows,  and  what  he  was  saying,  over  and  over, 
w^as  this: 

156.  "Look  what  you  done,  damn  you!  Look  what 
you  done ! " 

157.  And  what  I  was  saying  was  this: 

158.  "I've  lost  her!" 


154.    Complete  mental  collapse  and  obscurity. 

155  ff.  Falling  action.  Observe  the  combination  of  clear  under- 
standing and  delusion  in  his  mind,  as  illustrated  by  163,  168,  170, 
opposed  to  the  other  paragraphs. 


The  Woman  at  Seven  Brothers  463 

159.  I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him,  nor  him  to 
me.  By  and  by  he  did,  though.  He  stopped  his  talking 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  his  eyes  looked  like  the  devil's  eyes. 
He  put  them  up  close  to  mine.  He  grabbed  my  arm  with 
his  good  hand,  and  I  cried,  I  was  so  weak. 

160.  "Johnson,"  said  he,  "is  that  it?  By  the  living 
God — if  you  got  a  woman  out  here,  Johnson !  " 

161.  "  No,"  said  I.     "  I've  lost  her." 

162.  "  What  do  you  mean — lost  her?  " 

163.  "  It  was  dark,"  said  I — and  it's  funny  how  my 
head  was  clearing  up — "  and  the  door  was  open — the 
store-room  door — and  I  was  after  her — and  I  guess  she 
stumbled,  maybe — and  I  lost  her." 

164.  "Johnson,"  said  he,  "what  do  you  mean?  You 
sound  crazy — downright  crazy.     Who  ?  " 

165.  "  Her,"  said  I.     "  Fedderson's  wife." 

166.  "Whof" 

167.  "  Her,"  said  I.  And  with  that  he  gave  my  arm 
another  jerk. 

167A.  "  Listen,"  said  he,  like  a  tiger.  "  Don't  try 
that  on  me.  It  won't  do  any  good — that  kind  of  lies — 
not  where  you're  going  to.  Fedderson  and  his  wife,  too 
— the  both  of  'em's  drowned  deader  'n  a  door-nail." 

168.  "  I  know,"  said  I,  nodding  my  head.  I  was  so 
calm  it  made  him  wild. 

169.  "You're  crazy!  Crazy  as  a  loon,  Johnson!" 
And  he  was  chewing  his  lip  red.  "  I  know,  because  it 
was  me  that  found  the  old  man  laying  on  Back  Water 
Flats  yesterday  morning — me!  And  she'd  been  w^ith  him 
in  the  boat,  too,  because  he  had  a  piece  of  her  jacket  tore 
off,  tangled  in  his  arm." 

170.  "  I  know,"  said  I,  nodding  again,  like  that. 


•iOt  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

171.  "  You  know  what,  you  crazy,  murdering  fool? 
Those  were  his  words  to  me,  sir. 

172.  ''  I  know,"  said  I,  "  what  I  know." 

173.  "  And  I  know,"  said  he,  "  what  I  know." 

174.  And  there  you  arc,  sir.     He's  Inspector.     I'm- 
nobody." 


171.  Taken  with  104  and  131,  the  inspector's  remark  has  raised 
the  question  with  some  readers  of  the  story,  whether  we  are  to 
understand  that  the  abandonment  of  the  lantern  caused  the 
wrecking  of  the  Boston  boat  that  night.  The  student  can  work 
out  his  own  conchision.  The  editor's  opinion  is  that  the  author 
did  not  intend  to  imply  this,  as  a  few  words  added  to  the 
inspector's  remarks  would  have  been  quite  sufficient  to  indicate 
the  wreck  had  it  occurred,  and  as  the  loss  of  the  boat,  though 
perhaps  it  would  slightly  heighten  the  intensity,  is  not  material 
to  the  impression  or  outcome  of  the  story  one  way  or  the  other. 
— Concerning  174,  see  introd.  n.  1  and  7  (end). 


THE  CAT  AIJ^D  THE  FIDDLE 

The  Stoky  as  a  Whole 

1.  In  theme  and  motif,  this  story  approaches  the  pur- 
pose story  (S.  S.  M.,  27-31).  It  is  clearly  allegorical  in 
effect  (S.  S.  M.,  208:2).  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  suf- 
ficiently concrete  and  individualized  in  incident  and  per- 
sons to  have  the  quality  of  romantic  dramatic  narrative, 
and  on  account  of  its  specific  plot  and  incident  it  fulfills 
the  requirements  of  the  pure-theme  story  better  than  it 
does  those  of  the  purpose  story  (S.  S.  M.,  31 :  14,  32 :  15). 
The  principle  of  S.  S.  M.,  34:  19  and  35:  21-22  applies. 
Atmosphere  qualities  are  prominent;  so  are  character  ele- 
ments, tending  (as  just  intimated)  to  the  typical  and  class 
category  rather  than  to  the  strictly  individual. 

2.  Considered  (1)  ethically,  the  story  is  expressive  of 
the  ideals  of  plain  and  stem  living  and  high  thinking. 
Considered  (2)  for  imaginative  quality,  it  is  a  story 
of  creative  fancy;  (3)  for  mood  of  author,  a  story  of 
idealizing  fancy;  (4)  for  author's  viewpoint  (besides  its 
ethical  import),  it  indicates  love  of  the  spirit  and  form 
of  beauty — i.e.,  belief  in  art;  for  author's  personality,  it 
is  a  story  showing  the  qualities  indicated  in  (1),  (2), 
(4),  with  humor,  sympathy  and  gentleness  of  understand- 
ing. Its  stylistic  qualities  are  simplicity,  directness,  ease, 
clarity,  and  a  pervading  fancifulness  and  picturing  power 
resulting  from  the  author's  personality  coupled  with  he;; 

465 


4GG  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

fine  artistic  sense  of  the  tone  and  inherent  quality  of  the 
theme.  The  literary  motif  is  poetic  and  romantic,  and 
the  treatment  and  expression  accord  with  the  literary 
motif.  (What  is  the  didactic  motif?  Which  of  the  two 
dominates  ?) 

3.  The  contrast  element  is  strong  in  the  motif  and 
treatment.  For  details,  see  the  running  comment.  It  is 
not  presented  obviously,  however,  nor  made  inartistic  by 
over-emphasis. 

4.  To  a  considerable  extent,  this  story  represents  the 
type  of  treatment  in  which  an  individualized  central  per- 
son is  set  off  by  an  opposed  and  unindividualized  group. 
On  unity  secured  through  the  central  person,  see  S.  S.  M., 
1S0-1S3.  In  the  present  story,  the  group  that  constitutes 
the  main  foil  has  a  leading  representative  (Raymond), 
who  is  individualized  pretty  definitely,  and  made  by  con- 
crete presentation  into  a  personal  as  well  as  a  type  foil 
for  Lenoir,  the  central  person.  Read  S.  S.  M.,  208 :  2-4 
(with  footnote). 

5.  The  framework  of  the  plot  is  both  simple  and  slight. 
But  it  is  quite  sufficient  to  its  work  of  sustaining  the  story 
by  carrying  the  effect-producing  matter.  S.  S.  M.,  24-26. 
Reduced  to  its  framework  of  outcome-bringing  incident, 
the  plot  is  merely  this : 

A.  The  waiter-poet's  poem  is  carried  away  by  the  wind. 

B.  It  is  found  in  the  scrap  book  of  the  dispossessed 

sewing-woman. 
C    It   wins   him,    anonymously,   the   kingship   of   the 
poets ;  and  the  incident  of  the  auction  (B)  dis- 
covers to  him  his  dream-ideal  of  women. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  467 

Practically  all  the  effect  of  the  story  is  created  by  means 
of  elements  other  than  plot ;  cf.  especially  the  closing  two 
paragraphs. 

6.  This  story  is  ultimately  concerned  with  spiritual 
truths,  not  practical  life  or  its  material  aspects.  Study  it 
for  its  underlying  views  of  poetry  (art)  and  of  material 
existence  (also  cf.  it  with  "  The  Great  God  ").  ISTote  its 
sense  of  the  final  value  of  truth  and  beauty  in  comparison 
with  things  more  material  in  character;  and  note  the 
forms  of  expression  which  high  and  noble  spirituality  are 
shown  as  taking.  To  this  end,  compare  the  character  and 
conduct  of  Lenoir  and  Lasalle;  Lenoir  and  Eaymond; 
Lasalle  and  Raymond.  Consider  Mile.  Renee  as  sym- 
bolic of  the  spirit  in  human  form.  (One  may  carry  this 
study  further  by  considering  what  is  symbolized  by 
Lenoir's  distant  worship  of  Mile.  Dupre,  and  by  Ray- 
mond's more  earthly  pursuit  and  his  attainment  of  her 
human  companionship. — It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  this 
story  a  relationship  like  that  between  Dante  and  Beatrice ; 
and  there  is  in  Mile.  Dupre  a  suggestion  of  Una  in  "  The 
Faerie  Queene.") — Such  a  story  exemplifies  the  power  of 
the  conte  to  present  life  in  its  final — that  is,  spiritual — 
meanings;  to  give  concrete  outwardness  to  its  deeply  sig- 
nificant inner  truths.  On  this  and  related  matters,  it  will 
pay  to  read  S.  S.  M.,  1:1-6;  5:11;  12:7;  13 :  2 ;  14-15 ; 
34 :  36  ;  36  :  2  ;  43  :  1-2  ;  50  :  15-16  ;  53  :  19  ;  54-58  ;  62-65  ; 
94 :  6  ;  107-108  ;  109-110  ;  158  :  11-12  ;  180  :  4 ;  181,  note ; 
192:6;  256,  last  paragraph. — Further  note  that  the 
"  struggle  "  in  this  story  is  really  a  struggle  of  ideals. 
Will  the  true  poet  win  recognition  ?  If  so,  will  he  win  it 
in  an  outcome  bringing  external  triumph,  or  will  his  tri- 
umph be  spiritual  only  ?     If  the  latter,  must  he  miss  cer- 


468  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

taiu  of  the  elements  of  human,  or  material  success  ?  This 
is  the  problem  really  involved  in  the  determining  condi- 
tions of  the  story.  It  is  all  involved  in  the  question,  what 
will  happen  to  Lenoir  with  reference  to  (a)  his  poem  and 
(b)  Mile.  Dupre  ? 

7.  Therefore,  the  story  is  one  of  subjective  effect  rather 
than  of  objective  plot;  as  already  pointed  out  (No.  5 
above),  the  framework  of  objective  incident  is  slight.  More- 
over, it  is  not,  in  its  objective  action,  thoroughly  close- 
wrought,  for  the  recovery  of  Lenoir's  poem  is  pure  chance 
and  not  necessity.  But  it  appears  plausible,  for  we  in- 
tuitively perceive  that  we  are  not  dealing  with  the  truths 
of  existence  in  the  physical  world,  but  in  the  world  of 
ideals,  and  wo  therefore  consent  to  the  manipulation  of  the 
lower  order  of  plot  fact  in  favor  of  the  higher.  (Cf. 
S.  S.  M.,  86-92.)  Moreover,  the  element  of  chance  is  itself 
carefully  motivated  and  concealed,  with  a  view  to  the  im- 
pression of  plausibility.  Observe  this  management  in  the 
story.  Paragraphs  37-38  show  that  the  dispossess  auction 
is  a  usual  occurrence.  The  keeping  of  the  scrap-book  is 
natural  with  a  woman  like  Mile.  Dupre,  and  the  fact 
that  all  sorts  of  chance  matter  get  into  scrap-books  adds 
to  our  feeling  that  it  is  natural  for  Felix's  poem  to  be 
there  in  the  lot,  though  the  manner  of  its  getting  there 
really  remains  in  truth,  as  much  pure  chance  as  ever. 
Again,  the  loss  of  the  poem,  the  finding  of  it  in  the  book, 
and  the  explanation  bf  its  blowing  to  Mile.  Dupre's 
window,  are  told  of  in  far-separated  paragraphs  (16,  42, 
70),  with  a  great  deal  of  true-seeming  detail  between. 
Thus  the  incident  loses  the  improbability  it  would  seem  to 
have  were  these  facts  bunched  in  a  bald  account,  saying 
that,  when  the  poem  blew  away  it  was  carried  to  the  win- 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  469 

dow.  The  management  of  the  facts  thus  to  conceal  the 
strong  element  of  chance  they  involve,  is  worth  close  study. 
See  S.  S.  M.,  pp.  10-18 ;  24-26  ;  96-98 ;  100-103  ;  168  :  25  ; 
180:4;  188:  15;  191:  5.  These  are  details  of  technical 
skill,  hovi'ever,  and  must  not  obscure  the  fact  that — essen- 
tially— the  story  is  one  of  subjective  effect,  growing  out 
of  a  struggle  of  the  human  toward  an  ideal  goal.  Fur- 
ther concerning  this,  see  the  comment  on  par.  18  (last 
part). 

7.  This  story  affords  an  excellent  study  in  the  unities 
(S.  S.  M,,  178-189).  Lenoir  is  the  central  person;  Eay- 
mond,  his  foil,  is  the  more  active,  but  his  activity,  like  the 
rest  of  the  elements  of  this  story,  is  seen  mainly  as  it 
affects  Lenoir.  The  author's  conception  of  the  persons  is 
complete,  natural,  and  consistent  (S.  S.  M.,  182  :  6).  Unity 
of  action  is  fairly  strong,  because  the  divisions  of  the  plot 
outline  (see  note  5  above)  are  evenly  distributed  through 
the  story  and  the  concentrative  matter  is  worked  in  very 
skillfully  and  thoroughly  integrated  with  the  framework 
(S.  S.  M.,  166:  23).  There  is  likewise  unity  of  setting, 
of  tone,  and  of  thought. 

8.  Characterization  is  skillfully  managed;  study  espe- 
cially, and  separately,  Lenoir,  Raymond,  Mile.  Dupre,  and 
Lasalle.  See  S.  S.  M.,  182:6-9;  51:16-19;  162:16-19; 
206-229;  257(all)-258. 

9.  Though  dialogue  is  not  prominent,  it  is  important 
when  used,  and  is  well  managed.  See  S.  S.  M.,  229-249, 
especially  229-231;  231-6  to  238:14;  241:1-2;  243:4; 
246:9. 

10.  The  author's  personality  can  be  felt  throughout  the 
story,  yet  it  nowhere  is  apparent  in  any  obvious  or  self- 
exploiting  form,  but  only  as  a  shaping  and  coloring  influ- 


470  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

cnc'c — in  the  fonndation  conceptions  of  life  and  of  char- 
acter-values, the  manner  of  expression,  the  situations 
imagined,  touches  of  humor,  sympathy,  tolerance,  and  the 
like.  Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  189-190;  194:9-198;  245:8;  250, 
"How  can";  253,  "How  can";  5:12-16;  62:11-16; 
68-70. 


THE  CAT  AND  THE  FIDDLE 

By  Molly  Elliott  Seawell 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from 

"Ainslee's"  for  January,  1914. 

(Copyright,   1914) 

1.  The  Black  Cat,  a  cheerful,  dirty,^  agreeable  place 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  was  the  favorite  resort  of 
the  poets  and  literati  in  the  Latin  Quarter.     So  many  of 


1-10.  A  keynote  opening  (S.S.M.,  124:4;  125-126;  127-129; 
137-135).  The  story  is  strongly  atmospheric  in  its  elements  of 
(a)  environment,  (b)  class  traits  (S.  S.  M.,  211,  footnote),  and 
(e)  character  (type  rather  than  individual,  because  it  is  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  allegorical).  The  descriptive  opening  strikes  the 
tone  of  the  treatment  and  gets  before  us  at  once  representative 
portions  of  the  atmosphere  material.  The  nature  of  the  descrip- 
tive prologue  in  this  story  can  be  illustrated  from  the  first  pic- 
tures sometimes  seen  in  moving  picture  films  that  are  of  an  alle- 
gorical or  symbolical  nature,  or  that  tell  a  story  strong  in 
environmental  elements  or  atmospheric  quality.  In  such  films, 
a  preparatory  set  of  pictures  is  frequently  run,  more  or  less 
closely  connected  with  the  action  of  the  piece  itself,  and  always 
putting  the  spectator  into  the  spirit  of  it.  In  this  story,  the 
connection  is  unbroken,  as  most  of  the  opening  material  prepares 
the  stage  and  makes  ready  for  later  incident.  Note  this,  observing 
that  in  the  present  story  the  handling  of  setting  is  skillfully  made 
to  catch  interest  (S.  S.  M.,  122-151,  especially  126,  close  of  par. 
6;  127:9;  132:16;  135:21;  136:  all,  and  as  far  as  138:3; 
140:9);  to  provide  later  setting;  and  to  strike  the  keynote 
(S.  S.  M.,  138:  italics).  As  an  opening,  it  is  very  successful, 
well  worth  study  for  its  technique. 

1.  '  Words  that  indicate  an  estimate  of  the  place  and  its  people 
by  the  non-romantic,   or   common-sense   standards  of  everyday 

471 


472  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

these  gentry  ^  frequented  the  place  that  it  arrogated  to  itself 
a  transcendent  literary  privilege.  This  was  the  election, 
once  a  year,  of  a  king  of  all  the  poets  in  the  Latin  Quarter. 
Of  course,  this  meant  the  king  of  all  the  poets  in  Paris ; 
equally,  the  king  of  all  the  poets  in  France ;  and  the  king 
of  all  the  poets  in  France  must  be  the  king  of  all  the  poets 
in  the  civilized  world. 

2.  The  patrons  of  the  Black  Cat  took  their  responsi- 
bility seriously,  and  spent  the  last  six  months  of  every 
year  in  wrangling  over  the  merits  of  the  king  to  be  elected, 


life.  They  helj)  to  produce  the  proper  attitude  of  mind  in  the 
reader,  who  must  appreciate  the  point  of  view  of  the  people  of 
the  story,  and  the  spirit  of  the  life  they  lead,  without  losing  his 
sense  of  ultimate  values.  Throughout  the  story  we  shall  need 
to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this  irresponsible,  happy,  non-moral 
life  of  Bohemia  as  the  egoistic,  conventional  romantic  traditions 
of  the  idealized  Latin  Quarter  have  always  depicted  it;  but  at 
the  same  time  we  are  not  to  forget  that  there  is  another  set 
of  standards,  and  that  this,  not  the  Latin  Quarter  set,  is  the  one 
by  which  the  world  at  large  conducts  itself.  The  leading  person 
in  the  story  is  the  representative  of  these  standards  in  their  best 
form — industry,  humility,  and  spiritual  devotion  and  strength. 
Lenoir  therefore  represents  in  the  allegory  not  only  poetry,  but 
likewise  the  matter-of-fact  world,  in  their  best  aspects;  Raymond 
and  the  other  poets,  with  the  grasshoppers,  are  a  foil  to  him, 
representing  the  Latin  Quarter  conceptions  of  life  in  their  best 
aspects.  "Words  like  "  dirty  "  and  "  gentry,"  with  other  expres- 
sions or  suggestive  phrasings,  keep  us  on  an  even  keel  in  our 
sympathies.  They  are  the  ballast  provided  by  a  normal  point 
of  view.  Let  the  student  find  other  passages  where  we  are  safe- 
guarded against  too  much  sentimental  careening.  What  is  Lasalle 
typical  of  in  the  allegory? 

2.  Here  and  in  various  other  places  one  finds  good-natured  but 
unmistakable  irony  or  satire.  Cf.  the  comment  on  par.  1.  Some 
of  it  is  in  effect  scarcely  more  than  humorous  description  (par.  3, 
"enjoyed  the  hospitality");  some  is  deeply  motived  comment 
on  the  facts  of  life.     Look  up  other  passages  of  each  kind. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  473 

and  the  next  six  mouths  in  quarreling  and  fighting  duels 
over  the  demerits  of  the  king  elected. 

3.  The  Black  Cat  had  certain  advantages  of  situation. 
Directly  across  the  street  was  the  Fiddle,  the  name  given 
in  the  Latin  Quarter  to  the  police  station.  On  Saturday 
nights  it  was  a  regular  part  of  the  entertainment  at  the 
Black  Cat  to  watch  the  crowd  of  "  arrests  "  taken  into  the 
Fiddle,  where  they  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  munici- 
pality for  the  night.  At  six  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning 
those  who  could  afford  a  couple  of  francs,  which  was  the 
usual  fine,  or  who  had  friends  or  relatives  capable  of  pro- 
ducing this  sum,  were  turned  loose. 

4.  Saturday  night  at  the  Black  Cat  lasted  until  six 
o'clock  Sunday  morning.  Thus  the  sweet  and  solemn  call 
of  the  Angelus  bell,  in  a  dismal  little  old  church  jammed 
up  against  the  Fiddle,  was  the  signal  for  the  crowd  of 
revelers  ^  to  pour  into  the  street  and  watch  the  guests  of 
the  city  make  their  adieus  to  its  guardians.  The  guests 
generally  gave  profuse  thanks  for  their  entertainment,  and 
promised  the  police,  who  grinned  good-naturedly,  to  repeat 
the  visit  shortly.^ 

5.  A  large  proportion  of  the  persons  waiting  on  the 
sidewalk   were   merry   young  ladies,   officially  known    as 


4.  Atmosphere  and  tone  materials  presented  in  the  setting  and 
environment. — '  Observe  the  contrasts — "  sweet  and  solemn  call," 
"  dismal  little  old  church  "  and  prison,  crowd  of  revelers.  This 
story  is  based  on  fundamental  contrast  (the  true  fact  and  great 
man  and  the  imitation),  revealed  simply  and  concretely  m  the  nar- 
rative; and  numerous  contrasts  occur  in  sharply  turned  presenta- 
tion of  details. — '  Mood  and  character  hint. 

5.  Atmosphere  material  presented  in  the  persons. — Observe 
here  the  introduction  of  persons  collectively,  and  the  way  in  which 
the  author  manages  to  impress  us  with  the  sense  of  considerable 


171-  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Anat.yzed 

housekeepers,  and  niiolliciallj  as  "grasshoppers,"  whose 
protectors  had  been  run  in  for  the  night.  These  girls,  with 
gay,  painted  faces,  and  cheap  finery,  chatted  and  giggled 
and  nudged  one  another  as  they  made  their  way  to  the 
window  and  paid  the  two  francs.  Each  one  boasted  that 
she  had  pawned  her  best  gown  or  hat,  or  whatever  it 
might  be,  to  get  her  friend  out,  there  being  sharp  rivalry 
in  matters  of  devotion  on  the  part  of  these  young  ladies, 
who,  like  the  grasshoppers,  sang  all  the  summer,  and 
thought  not  of  the  winter. 

6.  Then  there  were  angry  fathers  and  weeping  moth- 
ers to  take  charge  of  their  darling  boys,  and  to  reproach 
them  bitterly.  The  grasshoppers  never  made  any  re- 
proaches when  their  friends  came  out  into  the  morning 
light  with  their  hats  smashed,  their  collars  disheveled,  and 
all  the  marks  upon  them  of  a  night  spent  in  the  Fiddle. 
However,  the  weeping  mothers  frequently  haled  their  dis- 
heveled boys  around  the  corner  to  the  little  church,  where, 
on  their  knees  in  the  gloom,  the  boys  faithfully  promised 
never,  never  to  misbehave  themselves  again  as  long  as  they 
lived.  This  grew  to  be  quite  a  custom  at  the  Fiddle,  and 
it  became  a  part  of  the  show  that  the  drunks  and  dis- 
orderlies should  be  marched  off  to  the  church  direct  from 
the  Fiddle. 

Y.    This  struck   the  fancy  of  the   grasshoppers   as   so 


numbers.  It  corresponds  technically  to  the  "  mob "  or  crowd 
introduced  for  stage  effect  in  drama.  Observe,  too,  the  presenta- 
tion of  a  class  trait  in  the  last  sentence,  and  how  the  class  trait 
is  based  on  human  nature  and  presents  that  also  to  us. 

6.  Presentation  of  atmosphere  material  by  means  of  incident 
(seen  somewhat  in  par.  5  also). — Another  obvious  instance  of 
contrast  in   the  details  introduced. 

7-8.    The  presentation  of  atmosphere  material  continues.    Here 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  475 

amusing,  that  they,  too,  dragged  their  friends  off  to  the 
church,  accompanied  by  a  cheering,  jeering  mob  from  the 
Black  Cat.  The  poets  and  literati,  some  of  whom  occa- 
sionally spent  a  night  in  the  Fiddle,  skipped  arm  in  arm 
with  grasshoppers,  or  tearful  mothers  and  irate  fathers, 
often  to  their  great  indignation,  and  sometimes  to  their 
huge  delight.  Generally,  they  danced  the  cancan  on  their 
way  to  the  church,  and  this  was  danced  with  the  sonorous 
singing  of  the  "  Dies  illce  "  and  other  of  the  grand  old 
Latin  hymns. 

8.  It  also  became  the  fashion  for  each  man  to  vocif- 
erate his  penitence,  and  after  having  faithfully  promised 
the  police  to  make  a  future  visit  to  the  Fiddle,  to  beat  his 
breast  and  swear  that  henceforth  he  would  live  a  life  like 
the  founder  of  the  Trappist  Order.  Once  arrived  at  the 
church  door,  they  found  a  stern  young  ecclesiastic  and  a 
couple  of  brawny  policemen  ready  to  make  them  behave 
themselves. 

9.  Equally,  it  became  the  fashion  to  change  suddenly 
into  great  propriety  and  devoutness  while  in  the  church. 
The  merry,  painted  girls  and  the  laughing,  disheveled 
young  men  might  have  been  taken  for  Benedictine  nuns 


it  is  made  by  means  of  class  personages  and  generalized,  or  un- 
particularized  (non-specific,  non-concrete)  incident. — Even  in  a 
romantic  telling,  some  of  the  characteristic  behavior  of  Bohemia 
is  a  trifle  shocking-  to  our  deeper  sense  of  reverence  or  taste — 
as  in  par.  8.     Cf.  the  comment  on  par.  1. 

9.  Observe  the  rapid  compactness  of  the  picturing,  the  narrat- 
ing, and  the  philosophizing.  This  able  economy  of  detail,  coupled 
with  rapid,  sure  recounting,  is  found  throughout  the  story.  It 
is  well  worth  imitating  in  practice,  and  employing  on  occasion. — 
By  this  time  the  general  mood,  or  attitude,  or  narration  has  been 
suggested  (S.  S.  M.,  64-66),  and  the  life  of  the  Quarter — which 


476  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

and  Trappist  monks,  so  devout  were  they.  Above  the  altar 
hung  a  great,  dusky  picture  of  the  Madonna  with  the 
Child  Jesus  on  her  breast.  Only  the  faces  of  the  Mother 
and  Child  could  be  clearly  seen  in  the  light  of  the  two 
flickering  candles  on  the  altar  and  the  swinging  sanctuary 
lamp,  but  a  Presence  shadowed  and  sanctified  the  place. 
So  great  is  the  psychic  power  of  devotion  that  many  of 
these  heedless  young  creatures  were  actually  good  and  pure 
for  a  little  while  in  the  still,  darkened  little  church. 
Once  outside,  however,  they  resumed  their  antics,  and  gen- 
erally wound  up  by  a  breakfast  on  credit  at  the  Black 
Cat. 

10.  Although  patronized  wholly  by  poets  and  literati, 
the  Black  Cat  made  money,  and  the  proprietor,  Monsieur 
Lasalle,  had  a  little  country  house — which  bore  the  mag- 
nificent name  of  the  Villa  Splendide — besides  an  apart- 
ment across  the  bridges,  and  could  afford  to  job  a  carriage. 
This  miracle  was  explained  by  the  fact  that  Monsieur 
Lasalle,  a  big,  handsome,  futile  man,  bothered  himself 
very  little  about  the  Black  Cat,  except  to  pose  as  the  pro- 
prietor and  the  patron  of  poets.  The  actual  management 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  head  waiter,  Felix  Lenoir,  a  small, 


is  the  environment  that  supplies  a  leading  element  of  the  atmos- 
phere— has  been  characterized.  Among  the  qualities  it  is  repre- 
sented as  having  are  frivolity,  variety,  gaiety,  impulsiveness, 
thoughtless  irreverence,  unconventionality,  freedom  from  the  re- 
straints of  a  serious  moral  code,  and  a  lively  taste  for  excitement. 
Study  the  paragi-aphs  for  passages  expressive  of  these  and  allied 
qualities. 

10-11.  Observe  the  direct  delineation  of  M.  Lasalle,  and  the 
characterization  of  him  through  suggestion.  Read  S.  S.  M., 
102-164,  especially  par.  18;  (222-225);  and  especially  225:13.— 
Observe  in  connection  with  the  above  the  introduction  of  Lenoir, 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  4TT 

meek,  shabby  man,  sallow-skinned  and  lanky-haired,  who 
worked  early  and  late,  year  in  and  year  out,  and  who  took 
his  few  hours  of  sleep  on  a  hard  little  bed  in  a  dark  little 
room  on  the  top  floor  of  the  building  and  who  served 
Lasalle  as  soldiers  serve  their  chiefs,  and  are  decorated  for 
it  with  the  Order  of  Tried  Bravery. 

11.  Felix  Lenoir  knew  what  it  was  to  go  hungry,  be- 
cause he  had  not  time  to  eat,  and  to  stand  smiling  when 
his  poor,  tired  legs  were  bending  under  him,  and  to  make 
up  out  of  his  poor  wages  bad  debts  which  he  had  allowed 
the  literati  to  incur  at  the  Black  Cat.  The  great  reward 
he  got  for  this  was  that  at  every  election  one  or  two  votes 
were  cast  for  him  as  king  of  the  poets,  which  invariably 
caused  a  storm  of  laughter.  On  those  occasions,  Felix, 
blushing  and  resisting,  would  be  dragged  forward  and 
made  the  object  of  many  excellent  jokes,  and  would  have 
his  jiicture  drawn  by  some  of  the  artists  present ;  for  the 
Black  Cat  cherished  the  fine  arts  as  well  as  literature. 

12.  There  was  but  one  secret  in  Felix  Lenoir's  simple, 
laborious  life.  This  was  contained  in  a  little  locked  desk, 
which  held  poems  written  by  him   secretly   and   shame- 


with  Lasalle  as  a  foil  in  contrast ;  note  the  initial  description 
(S.  S.  M.,  163-164),  followed  by  confirmatoi'y  characterization  dis- 
tributed througbout  tbe  rest  of  tbe  story.  In  following  up  this 
study  hint,  compare  tbe  treatment  of  the  secondary  persons  with 
that  of  Lenoir  (Raymond  is,  next  to  Lenoir,  tbe  most  prominent). 
Note  tbe  close  of  par.  11.  Activity  like  this  is  common  through  tbe 
story.  It  provides  atmospbere  and  characterization,  and  enlivens 
the  narrative.     On  activity,  see  S.  S.  M.,  37 :  4 ;  136 :  1 ;  140  :  7. 

12.  Continues  characterization  of  Lenoir,  mainly  by  rapid  sum- 
marizing narrative.  Psychological  naiTation  is  present  (S.  S.  M., 
228).  Of  his  character  traits,  note  the  humility  and  tbe  true 
poetic  passion — love  of  beauty  and  love  of  expression.  Cf.  Ray- 
mond and  tbe  other  "  poets  "  of  tbe  Black  Cat  group. — From 


478  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

facedly.  In  the  occasional  hours  when  he  found  himself 
alone  and  at  leisure  in  his  little  aerie  under  the  roof,  he 
felt  a  strange  passion  of  anticipated  joy,  which  was  al- 
most happiness  in  itself.  The  dull  little  room  became 
glorified.  From  one  narrow  window  was  visible  a  patch 
of  sky,  across  which  the  swallows  darted,  their  glossy  black 
breasts  shining  in  the  sun.  Sometimes  the  wintry  clouds 
scurried  across  the  piece  of  sky,  and  again  a  star  scintil- 
lated and  quivered  as  if  for  Felix  alone.  To  him,  that 
sky  represented  the  little  scrap  of  heaven  that  is  found  in 
every  human  life. 

13.  Felix  Lenoir,  though  a  head  waiter,  was  a  man,  and 
longed  for  the  soft  smile  of  a  woman's  face  bent  upon  him. 
But  he  had  neither  time  nor  money  to  woo  women,  and 
none  of  those  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Black  Cat  had 
faces  with  the  angelic  expression  that  Felix  imagined  in 
his  waking  and  sleeping  dreams,  and,  as  he  said  to  himself : 

14.  "  What  woman  with  a  face  such  as  that  of  which 
I  dream  would  look  at  a  head  waiter  ?  Go  to,  Felix ;  you 
are  an  ass !  " 


pars.  10-12,  write  out  a  character  description  of  Lenoir,  using 
the  method  of  frank  analysis  (S.  S.  M.,  225: 13.)— Decide  why 
Lenoir  is  presented  by  the  method  of  S.  S.  M.,  223 :  10  instead 
of  223 :  11,  and  why  Raymond  is  presented  by  the  method  of 
223: 11  (S.  S.  M.,  222-225).— Note  the  closing  words  of  optimistic 
philosophy,  and  the  manner  in  which  this  directly  interpretive 
assertion  is  subordinated  to  the  purpose  and  tone  of  the  stoi-y. 
Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  213,  bottom. 

13-14.  These  paragraphs  complete  the  massed  characterization 
of  Lenoir  to  which  pars.  10-14  are  devoted ;  they  add  one  of  the 
main  human  elements,  showing  Lenoir  a  man  in  his  make-up,  as 
well  as  a  head  waiter  and  a  poet.  The  trait  here  set  forth — 
high  and  reverent  love  for  women — is  one  indispensable  part  of 
character  basis  for  the  plot  and  action ;  see  S.  S.  M.,  13-15. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  479 

15.  One  golden  Sunday  in  May,  in  the  early  afternoon, 
when  there  was  the  usual  lull  in  business  at  the  Black  Cat, 
Felix  sat  at  his  window,  writing.  His  manuscript,  after 
being  much  blotted  and  interlined,^  was  finally  finished, 
and  Felix  made  a  clean  copy  of  the  poem,  twenty  lines 
in  all.  It  was  addressed  to  a  dream  face  that  he  had 
imagined  in  the  church,  and  the  idea  was  that  heaven 
shone  from  within  those  eyes.^ 

IG.  When  he  had  written  it  out  neatly,  he  read  it  over 
with  secret  joy.     Then,  before  his  very  eyes,  the  sheet 

15.  First  plot  incident  begins.  Note  how  it  springs  from  and 
depends  on  Lenoir's  character,  as  explained  in  the  comment  just 
preceding  this. — '  A  detail  that  is  true  to  the  general  conception ; 
as  a  true  poet,  Lenoir  was  a  careful  workman.  A  great  deal  of 
the  effect  of  a  story  is  created  by  accurate,  significant  detail 
(S.  S.  M.,  66:17).— '"In  the  church."  In  the  true  poet,  there 
is  always  the  passion  of  reverence — reverence  for  nature,  rev- 
erence for  the  divine,  reverence  for  the  truth,  for  nobility  of 
mind  or  spirit,  for  spiritual  beauty,  physical  beauty,  and  beauty 
in  nature,  for  strength,  for  haj^piness,  for  personal  gift.  Herein 
is  a  great  difference  between  the  plebeian  and  the  poet.  Seeing 
a  beautiful  person  in  church,  the  plebeian  will  usually  note 
physical  charm;  the  poet  will  be  moved  to  spiritual  admiration. 
(Raymond  was  a  poet  of  no  mean  ability,  but  he  was  not 
Lenoir's  equal,  for  Lenoir  had  this  spiritual  quality.  Study  the 
presentation  of  the  two  elsewhere  for  verification  of  this.)  The 
dream  face  imagined  in  the  church  is  therefore  a  significant  detail 
thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  true  poet,  in  whom  all  experi- 
ences are  contributory  to  the  supreme  experience,  that  of  deep 
spiritual  life.  Note  that,  although  but  a  few  words  are  used  in 
this  phrase,  implied  in  them  is  the  complete  and  clear  conception 
of  the  whole  body  of  associated  facts  (S.  S.  M.,  182:6-8;  211, 
top  (italics);  217:4  (italics). 

16.  The  generating  circumstance  (S.  S.  M.,  85 : 1) .  '"  But  the 
poetry.  ..."  Read  the  paragraph,  omitting  this  sentence. 
What  has  it  lost?  Evidently  the  omitted  sentence  is  needed,  not 
for  narrative  unity,  but  for  tonal  effect.  Without  it,  the  para- 
graph is  bald  matter  of  fact — or  would  be  except  for  its  third 


480  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

siuldciilv  vnnislu'd.  A  vagrant  wind  had  rushed  into  the 
little  street,  and,  scurrying  past  Felix's  window,  liad 
seized  the  poem,  and  dashed  off,  shrieking  with  laughter, 
as  poor  Felix  thought.  He  saw  the  paper  high  up  in  the 
blue  air  and  then  it  was  gone/  But  the  poetry  remained 
in  Felix's  heart  just  as  a  lark  may  be  heard  singing  far 
out  of  sight  in  the  sky.  Felix  was  sitting  down  at  his 
writing  table  to  make  another  copy  of  his  poem,  when 
Auguste,  his  second  in  command,  dashed  into  the  room. 

17.  "  Come  downstairs  at  once!  "  shouted  Auguste. 
''The  poets  have  broken  loose  ^  and  are  playing  the  devil  in 
the  garden — drinking  toasts,  and  smashing  the  glasses 
afterward.  And  God  knows  how  hard  it  is  to  get  payment 
out  of  a  poet !  " 

sentence,  in  which  figurative  language  enlivens  the  matter  of 
fact.  Observe,  therefore,  the  manner  in  which  tone  material  is 
here  managed  in  sentence  3,  by  introducing  a  description  dictated 
by  fancy  (in  other  words,  poetical)  ;  in  the  other  sentence,  by 
mention  of  a  fact  that  helps  again  to  characterize  Lenoir  as  a 
poet.  Each  sentence  suggests  the  spirit  of  poetry.  Observe  that 
this  spirit  may  appear  either  in  the  substance — the  conception — 
or  in  the  form  of  the  sentence,  and  probably  will  be  apparent 
in  both,  as  here.    Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  58,  footnotes;  62-63;  63-66. 

17-32.  Intensifying  incident  (or  episode);  see  S.  S.  M.,  108: 
31-110 ;  112 :  39.  On  account  of  its  concentrative  function,  it  con- 
tains— distributed — much  atmosphere  and  characterizing  detail. 
Pick  out  the  passages  of  this  kind. 

17.  Another  contrast  presented.  The  humble,  true  poet  up- 
stairs, devoutly  framing  words  into  an  expression  of  the  ideal,  and 
the  egotistic  poets  and  pseudo-poets  downstairs,  swilling  wine  and 
rough-housing  to  manifest  their  sympathy  with  the  ideal. — '  "  The 
poets."  Much  as  one  would  say  "  The  cows,"  "  the  students," 
naming  some  group  from  which  a  special  sort  of  behavior  is  to 
be  expected,  to  be  dealt  with  in  a  special  way.  Inobviously,  this 
expression  is  finely  chosen  to  maintain  the  tone  of  the  story.  It 
reminds  us,  by  this  hidden  aptness,  of  the  peculiar  social  environ- 
ment that  subjectively  colors  the  story  throughout. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  481 

18.  Felix  ran  down  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him, 
and  found  that  a  sudden  irruption  had  occurred  in  the 
little  garden  of  the  cafe.  There  was  much  shouting  and 
singing  and  spouting  of  poetry,  the  ringleader  being  Ray- 
mond d'Artigny,  the  reigning  king  of  the  poets  for  that 
year.  Felix  loved  Raymond  for  his  beauty,  his  gallantry, 
his  rich  voice,  his  brilliant  smile,  his  ineffable  impudence, 
the  charm  of  his  verses,  printed  in  a  cheap  newspaper,  and 
copied  in  all  the  best  newspapers  in  Paris.  And  Raymond 
loved  Felix,  and  showed  it  by  tweaking  his  ears,  and  buf- 

18.  Obsei've  the  quick  flash  of  inclusive,  characterizing  descrip- 
tion (S.  S.  M.,  163 :  18;  all  p.  162  is  pertinent,  as  are  pp.  222-227) ; 
note  how  a  phrase  takes  us  from  the  cafe  into  the  garden  (variety 
of  scene  and  characteristic  detail). — Raymond  is  the  chief  sec- 
ondai*y  person,  and  serves  as  the  main  foil  (S.  S.  M.,  69)  to 
Lenoir.  Contrasts  can  be  made  so  strong  that  they  lose  their 
effect  through  being  overdone.  Overdoing  would  here  be  easy; 
Raymond  need  only  be  depicted  as  a  25oetaster  instead  of  a  poet 
— we  are  led  to  feel  that  on  the  whole  there  is  a  good  deal  more 
of  self-approval  among  the  poets  of  the  Black  Cat  than  there 
is  of  superlative  ability.  But  the  author  avoided  this  by  making 
Raymond  an  able  poet  too,  in  obedience  to  the  principle  that 
there  must  be  a  close  correspondence  between  things  in  some 
essential  respect  before  they  can  be  effectively  conti'asted.  One 
element  of  the  contrast  is  Raymond's  importance  and  Lenoir's 
insignifieance  in  their  little  world. — Since  Raymond  and  Lenoir 
are  friendly — in  a  way,  cronies — and  there  is  no  personal  rivalry 
between  them,  between  whom,  then,  is  the  conflict  for  which  the 
theory  of  plot  calls?  Here  it  is  not  essentially  between  persons 
at  all.  There  is  a  conflict  whether  Lenoir's  poetry  will  come  to 
light — whether  he  will  win  what  is  most  precious  to  his  artist 
nature:  namely,  recognition  of  his  art  (not  personal  aggrandize- 
ment). There  is  also  a  conflict  whether  his  longing  for  the 
ideal  in  women  will  be  gratified.  The  third  phase  of  the  con- 
flict is,  whether  his  human  longings  will  be  satisfied.  The  out- 
come is,  that  the  ideal  is  satisfied,  but  the  human  disappointed. 
(Herein  one  of  the  major  elements  of  the  theme  is  established, 
and  the  consummating  touch  of  pathos  given.) 


482  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

feting  him   amiably   and   ahvays  giving  him   a  vote  for 
king  of  the  poets. 

19.  Raymond,  surrounded  by  a  noisy,  laughing,  chaf- 
fing crew,  pointed  with  pride  to  a  mass  of  broken  glass  in 
the  middle  of  the  table. 

20.  ''  Look  you,  Felix,"  he  cried,  "  this  glass  was 
broken  in  honor  of  the  unknown — a  girl  with  an  angel 
face — whom  we  passed  just  now  as  she  came  tripping  down 
the  church  steps.  We  drank  her  health,  and  then  deter- 
mined that  the  glasses  should  never  be  used  for  any  other 
purpose.  So  there  they  are.  You  may  charge  them  to  my 
account." 

21.  "  But,"  said  poor  Felix,  trying  to  smile,  "  it  will 
make  a  considerable  item,  Monsieur  Raymond,  and  Mon- 
sieur Lasalle  will  hold  me  accountable  for  it." 

22.  "  That's  all  right,"  responded  Raymond  airily, 
and  began  to  sing  a  song  about  what  joy  one  might  find 
in  love  and  wine. 

23.  Felix  was  stammering  out  a  protest  against  break- 
ing the  glasses,  but  was  cut  short  by  Raymond,  who  pulled 
poor  Felix's  straight,  thin,  black  hair. 

24:.  "  See  here,  my  good  fellow,"  he  said,  "  we  can't 
be  interrupted  now  in  the  most  serious  business  of  the 
whole  year,  not  only  to  ourselves,  but  to  the  Black  Cat, 
to  the  Latin  Quarter,  to  Paris,  to  France What  do 


24.  Here  the  dialogue  strongly  suggests  the  basic  contrast  of 
the  motif — the  fundamental  difference  in  their  attitude  toward  life 
of  Lenoir  and  the  Black  Cat  poets.  Raymond's  speech  expresses 
an  attitude  the  result  of  a  forced,  artificial,  and  egotistic  theoiy 
of  "  art " ;  Lenoir  is  throughout  simple,  unaffected,  "  human," 
and  natural.  His  vision  is  clear,  direct,  and  exalted;  that  of 
the  Black  Cat  poets  was  blurred  by  affectation,  distorted  by 
egotism,  and  vitiated  by  artificial  theories  of  life  and  art.     They 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  4B3 

I  say  ?  To  the  whole  world.  The  election  of  the  king  of 
the  poets  comes  off  the  thirty-first  of  next  December,  and 
it  will  take  us  from  now  until  then  to  weigh  the  merits  of 
all  the  poets,  yourself  included.  When  that  is  done,  we 
will  consider  the  payment  of  these  glasses." 

25.  "  It  is  now  May,"  said  Felix,  with  a  wry  smile, 
"  and  do  you  mean  you  will  not  begin  to  consider  the  pay- 
ment of  the  bill  until  the  thirty-first  of  December?  Is 
that  it  ?  " 

26.  "  Precisely,"  replied  Raymond,  flourishing  his 
arms.  "  I  always  said,  Felix,  that  you  were  a  person  of 
discernment  above  your  calling.  And,  besides,  it  is  most 
ungrateful  of  you  ever  to  ask  any  of  us  to  pay  a  bill  here, 
because  you  know  that  at  every  election  some  of  us  have 
cast  a  complimentary  vote  for  you  as  king  of  the  poets. 
You  are  the  only  head  waiter  in  Paris  who  has  ever  en- 
joyed such  an  honor." 

27.  "  I  did  not  think  it  was  meant  as  an  honor,"  said 
Felix,  blushing  all  over  his  sallow  face.  "  I  thought  that 
you  were  simply  making  game  of  me." 

28.  "What  if  we  were?"  cried  Eaymond,  pounding 


posed  and  professed;  he  was.  Study  the  dialogue  in  the  para- 
gi-aphs  that  follow  this,  and  elsewhere,  for  further  examples. — 
Observe  the  delicate  burlesquing  present  in  the  speech  as  the 
author  writes  it.  This  exaggeration — felt  rather  than  perceived 
— is  the  means  by  which  she  satirizes  the  pose  of  the  Bohemian 
poets.  S.  S.  M.,  212 :  5-6. — For  the  impudent  quality  in  Ray- 
mond, study  pars.  24-26  and  others. 

27.  Lenoir  not  only  is  sincere,  natural,  and  humble;  he  has  the 
simpleness  of  a  child.  Compare  Raymond's  vanity  and  bombast 
in  par.  28,  and  the  cold  cruelty  of  his  egotism;  could  Lenoir  have 
made  such  an  answer?     See  the  closing  part  of  S.  S.  M.,  182:  6. 

28.  Account  for  the  fact  that,  although  Raymond  is  not  the  cen- 
tral person,  his  speech  and  behavior  are  so  fully  presented.    To 


484  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  table  and  laughing,  his  white  teeth  showing  under  his 
short  black  mustache,  his  dark  eyes  glowing.  "  It  is  an 
honor  to  be  made  game  of  by  an  immortal !  The  people 
whom  Dante  Alighieri  put  in  purgatory  and  hell  were 
in)mortalizcd !  There  was  but  one  Dante  Alighieri 
in  Florence,  but  at  the  Black  Cat,  yes,  in  this 
very  garden  at  this  moment,  there  are  a  dozen 
Dantes !  " 

20.  This  sentiment  was  received  with  roars  of  ap- 
plause, and  one  of  the  crowd,  proposing  the  health  of 
Dante,  declared  that  if  he  were  living,  he  would  be  worthy 
to  be  classed  with  the  best  poets  of  the  Black  Cat — nay, 
even  Raymond  d'Artigny  himself.  When  this  toast  was 
drunk,  all  the  glasses  were  smashed  again,  in  honor  of 
the  poet  and  ward  politician. 


what  extent  are  the  principles  of  S.  S.  M.,  183 :  9  observed  or  dis- 
regarded? Can  the  principle  of  S.  S.  M.,  67: 18  apply  to  character 
as  well  as  situation,  and  (along-  with  C6:17)  afford  an  explana- 
tion of  the  attention  paid  Raymond  in  comparison  with  that — 
apparently — paid  Lenoir?  With  which  of  the  men  was  initial 
characterization  full  and  conclusive  (S.  S.M.,  163:18;  164: 
19-20)  ?  Was  the  full  initial  summary  of  the  character  of  Lenoir 
necessary  as  a  basis  for  the  running  suggestion  of  contrast 
between  him  and  the  other  poets?  Do  the  long  speeches  of  Ray- 
mond represent  the  "  mouthy  "  characteristic  of  his  type  of  poet 
and  man — i.e.,  are  they  made  a  means  of  characterizing  the 
"professional  artists"  in  contrast  with  Lenoir?  See  S.  S.  M., 
234 :  10-15.  Is  Lenoir  a  man  of  few  words,  or  is  he  portrayed  so 
in  the  dialogue  merely  because  he  has  been  so  fully  presented 
already  by  analysis,  that  the  contrast  between  him  and  the  wordy 
Raymond  will  reveal  itself — or  are  both  these  things  the  reason? 
See  also  the  comment  on  par.  30. 

29.  Like  par.  28  (and  the  entire  episode),  this  is  a  eoncentra- 
tive  passage,  creating  atmosphere  (subjective  color  in  behavior), 
and  characterizing. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  485 

30.  The  under  waiters,  none  of  whom  had  any  respon- 
sibility for  the  broken  glass,  laughed  openly  at  the  excel- 
lent jokes  of  the  poets.  The  waiters  did  not  know 
that  Dante  was  dead,  but  Felix  knew  it,  as  he 
knew  many  things  that  he  was  careful  to  conceal  about 
poets. 

31.  "  Don't  be  uneasy,  my  good  Felix!  "  shouted  Eay- 
mond.  "  You  take  care  of  that  pile  of  broken  glass,  and 
in  less  than  five  years  you  will  be  able  to  sell  the  pieces 
of  it  for  a  hundred  francs  each  as  a  relic  of  the  poets  at 
the  Black  Cat." 


30.  Develops  the  contrast  motif,  this  time  by  a  hint  of  the  igno- 
rance of  the  waiters  as  compared  with  Lenoir.  Observe  how 
Lenoir  is  kept  before  our  attention  by  making  him  the  person 
over  against  whom  all  the  other  persons  are  set.  By  indirect 
characterization  the  author  thus  makes  us  feel  Lenoir's  supe- 
riority. The  other  persons  show  traits  we  disapprove;  they  are 
opposed  to  Lenoir;  therefore  Lenoir  must  be  correspondingly 
excellent.  This  method  of  indirect  characterizing  is  worth  study. 
— The  character-contrast  motif  is  very  strong  in  this  story. 
Lenoir  stands  alone — isolate  in  an  active  world.  The  "  grass- 
hoppers/' Lasalle,  Raymond,  the  waiters,  the  prisoners — he  is 
not  as  any  of  these  are,  and  we  quickly  feel  it.  Contrast  is  also 
strong  in  the  behavior  and  the  characteristic  interests  and  occu- 
pations of  the  persons — Lasalle  the  bourgeois,  porcine,  self- 
satisfied  with  his  ability  and  far  less  able  than  he  thinks,  oscil- 
lating between  his  "  Villa  Splendide  "  and  the  cafe,  made  profit- 
able for  him  by  Lenoir ;  the  Bohemian  "  journalists,"  literary 
soldiers  of  fortune,  and  their  artist  associates;  the  police  and 
the  clergy;  the  unconventionally  domestic  and  frivolously  faithful 
"  housekeepers,"  making  their  best  of  a  substitute  for  home  as 
they  did  of  their  substitute  for  happiness;  the  occasional  true 
gold  of  humanity — Mile.  Dupre  and  Lenoir  himself; — these,  each 
with  some  trick  or  trait  of  conduct  characteristic  of  his  type, 
afford  an  abundant  variety  of  contrast.  On  character  traits  sug- 
gested as  abundant,  but  not  portrayed,  see  S.  S.  M.,  182 : 6  and 
183 : 8. 


486  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

32.  With  this  Felix  had  to  be  satisfied  for  the  present, 
and  to  making-  up  his  mind  to  watch  the  cheap  newspapers; 
for  these  young  men  occasionally  had  verses  and  articles 
printed,  and  as  soon  as  Felix  saw  a  poem  or  an  article  by 
a  patron  of  the  Black  Cat,  he  knew  that  it  was  an  auspi- 
cious time  to  ask  for  a  small  unpaid  account. 

33.  Felix  lived  in  a  state  of  exaltation  all  that  day, 
and  for  some  days  afterward,  thinking  about  his  poem. 
He  even  had  dreams  of  sending  it  to  a  newspaper  or  a 
magazine,  but  concluded  that  the  chance  of  publication 
was  too  slim  to  justify  the  postage.  Still,  the  poem  dwelt 
in  the  heart  of  Felix  all  the  bright  summer  and  into  the 
gloomy  autumn. 

34.  Meanwhile,  the  election  of  a  poet  for  the  coming 
year  was  growing  to  be  the  overmastering  question  at  the 
Black  Cat,  and  so  many  duels  were  fought  about  it  that 
Felix  really  began  to  be  afraid  somebody  would  get  hurt. 
Usually,  by  the  first  of  December,  the  different  candidates 
and  their  parties  were  well  aligned,  but  it  seemed  this 
year  as  if  there  would  be  twenty  kings  of  poetry,  or  none 
at  all. 

35.  Felix  was  country  bred,  but,  of  course,  owing  to  the 
cost  of  Lasalle's  Villa  Splendide,  Felix  had  neither  the 


32.  Double-barreled  character-hint:  tells  of  both  Lenoir  (on 
the  job)  and  the  poets. 

33-34.  Transition.  Note  how  the  passage  of  time  is  made  im- 
pressive.— Which  is  the  stronger :  to  say  that  Lenoir  was  poor,  or 
to  say  that  he  could  not  afford  postage  to  submit  his  poem?  On 
the  concrete,  see  S.  S.  M.,  3 :  6-10. 

35.  Added  touch  of  characterization,  with  a  return  at  the  end 
to  an  item  (pars.  13-14)  of  the  inclusive  characterization  massed 
in  pars.  10-14 ;  see  S.  S.  M.,  164 :  20.  Observe  that,  following 
massed   or   inclusive   character   description,   the   introduction   of 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  487 

time  nor  the  money  to  go  to  the  country.  The  nearest 
thing  to  it  was  to  go,  on  murky  December  afternoons,  to  a 
flower  shop  near  by,  where,  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  he 
could  feast  his  eyes  on  the  roses  and  the  lilies  and  the 
tulips  in  the  window.  They  were  so  alluring;  like  fas- 
cinating women,  their  beauty  and  their  fragrance  en- 
thralled the  souls  of  men. 

36.  One  afternoon  he  saw  in  one  corner  of  the  window 
a  tall  and  slender  bush  of  white  lilacs.  A  dream  rushed 
over  Felix — somewhere  in  the  world  was  a  woman,  fair 
and  pure  and  sweet  as  white  lilacs.  But  she  was  not  for 
him — white  lilacs   and  head  waiters  do  not  go  on  four 


character  items  thereafter  may  have  the  effect  of  renewing, 
amplifying,  and  establishing  items  of  the  massed  characterization, 
especially  when  the  later  item  comes  in  some  concrete  form  of 
presentation  (S.  S.  M.,  3-4). — Note  the  strength  of  the  para- 
graph, especially  its  first  sentence,  as  a  comment  on  economic- 
human  relationships.  The  reader  immediately  feels  the  injustice 
implicit  in  such  a  situation.  Yet  the  paragraph  is  not  one  of 
comment,  nor  is  there  in  it  the  slightest  tint  of  expressed  opinion. 
The  bare  facts  are  put  before  us,  as  they  are  in  a  good  newspaper 
report,  and  left  to  make  their  own  effect  (S.  S.  M.,  190:3; 
194:10-196).  It  is  one  great  office  of  fiction  and  drama  (and 
of  all  art)  to  make  us  realize  life  in  its  essentials — see  its  facts 
clear  and  plain.  They  are  clearest  and  plainest  when  presented 
to  us  thus,  in  the  form  of  a  report  rather  than  a  commentary, 
though  of  course  the  artist  must  write  after  his  own  fashion. 
The  matter  is  discussed  more  in  detail  in  S.  S.  M.,  189-206.  No 
way  of  measuring  such  things  exists, — but  probability  indicates 
that  it  is  art  more  than  propaganda  that  maintains  and  spreads 
ideals.  It  does  this  by  means  such  as  we  have  been  discussing. 
36.  This  paragraph  develops  in  detail  the  first  items  discussed 
just  above  (par.  35) ;  in  addition,  it  includes  concentrative  matter. 
(The  description  of  his  boyhood  is  not  exposition,  because  the 
matter  is  not  necessary  to  explain  any  part  of  the  story;  it  is 
used  merely  to  intensify  the  character  of  Lenoh.  S.  S.  M., 
107:30,  and  as  far  as  110:36.) 


488  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

legs,  Felix  thought  in  his  hiiinble  heart.  But  it  brought 
back  the  memory  of  a  lilac  bush  in  the  vegetable  garden 
of  the  Breton  farmhouse  where  he  had  been  born  and 
reared.  He  recalled  himself,  a  little,  thin  boy — for  he 
had  always  been  thin — lying  on  his  back  on  the  grass,  and 
his  mother,  a  hard-handed,  big-waisted,  soft-eyed  peasant 
woman,  coming  and  playfully  tickling  him  and  making 
him  roll  over  and  laugh  on  the  soft,  green  earth.  Then 
it  was  that  he  lived  over  the  drama  of  his  childish 
days. 

37.  But  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  real  drama  being  played 
close  by.  On  the  pavement,  before  a  tall  old  lodging 
house  across  the  way,  was  a  pile  of  furniture  belonging  to 
a  dispossessed  tenant,  and  around  it  was  gathered  the 
miscellaneous  crowd  that  attends  such  sales  in  the  Latin 
Quarter.     It  was  made  up  of  sharp-eyed  men  and  women 


37-73.  The  second  plot  incident  is  included  in  these  paragraphs. 
They  afford  a  profitable  study  in  sequence  and  episode  develop- 
ment. The  opening  and  plot  motivation  are  found  in  pars.  37-38. 
In  par.  39  the  motivating  person  of  the  incident  is  introduced, 
with  just  enough  of  action  to  create  and  carry  suspense;  then 
come  local  color  and  other  atmosphere  details,  until,  toward  the  end 
of  pai'.  42,  we  are  prepared  for  the  discovery  of  Lenoir's  poem. 
Note  here  how  the  climax  of  the  discovery  itself  is  worked  up — 
Raymond's  exclamation,  the  reading  of  the  poem,  with  Lenoir's 
delight.  Then  follows  the  description  and  characterization  of  the 
dream-ideal  realized  in  the  owner  of  the  household  goods,  Lenoir's 
feelings  and  her  own  uniting  to  strengthen  the  emotional  climax. 
Here  ends  the  first  climax  of  the  episode. 

The  emotion  quickly  passes  over  to  action  (end  of  par.  45). 
In  what  follows,  characterizing,  atmosphere,  and  action  details 
mingle,  with  flashes  of  contrast.  Here  Raymond  is  in  the  fore- 
front— as  such  a  man  would  be  when  a  beautiful  girl  and  the 
chance  to  show  himself  off  following  a  generous  impulse  were 
at  hand.    Felix  is  working,  but  in  the  background,  as  his  unosten- 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  489 

dealers  in  second-hand  furniture,  and  the  ever-present 
students  and  grasshoppers  looking  for  bargains  or  amuse- 
ment, because  these  little  events  in  the  Latin  Quarter  are 
not  always  taken  with  great  seriousness.  The  furniture 
generally  brings  all  it  is  worth,  and  the  tenants,  if  of  a 
careless  turn  of  mind,  get  some  ready  cash  and  go  to 
another  place  for  a  sojourn  of  uncertain  length. 

38.  On  this  occasion,  the  bidding  promised  to  be 
particularly  spirited,  and  Felix  recognized  Raymond 
d'Artigny  and  several  patrons  of  the  Black  Cat  among 
the  bidders.  The  furniture  was  of  a  different  sort  from 
that  usually  sold.  It  was  painted  white,  and  there  were 
cheap,  but  spotless,  muslin  curtains  draped  over  the  dress- 
ing table,  and  the  little  knickknacks  that  women  accumu- 
late were  dainty. 

39.  Felix's  eye  sought  the  owner,  expecting  to  see  a 


tatious  nature  is  to  do.  Observe  the  unobtrusive  pathos — not  the 
maudHn  sentiment  kind — of  his  self-obliteration  here  and  through- 
out the  story ;  it  is  part  of  the  spiritual  beauty  of  his  character — 
and  of  its  weakness  from  a  worldly  point  of  view.  Yet  he 
receives  what  is  for  him  a  rich  reward — Mile.  Dupre's  especial 
notice  among  the  crowd  (pars.  64-65).  This  is  the  height  of 
the  second  movement  of  this  episode. 

In  the  paragraph,  the  outcome  of  the  story  itself  is  hinted  at 
(obsei've  how  this  hint  gives  a  new  impulse  to  interest  by  renew- 
ing suspense.  S.  S.  M.,  101:20  b;  more  generally,  S.  S.  M., 
100-103;  249,  bottom).  This  division  corresponds  to  the 
denouement  division  of  a  plot  (S.  S.  M.,  75:  C). — The  principle 
of  S.  S.  M.,  91 :  13  applies  to  characterization  also  (cf .  S.  S.  M., 
52:17).  Instances  illustrative  of  this  principle  are  found  in 
the  chai'acterization  of  Mile.  Dupre  in  par.  38  (the  furniture  is 
in  keeping  with  the  owner)  ;  par.  46  (the  treasuring  of  such  a 
volume  is  in  keeping  with  Mhe.  Dupre's  character  and  also  with 
her  occupation).  Find  other  instances;  pick  out  similar  instances 
in  the  presentation  of  Lenoir;  of  Raymond.     In  par.  44  is  a 


490  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

pretty,  painted  creature,  extolling  the  cost  and  merits  of 
her  belongings,  and  by  adroitly  working  upon  the  sym- 
pathy and  cupidity  of  the  crowd,  getting  a  trifle  more  than 
the  things  cost.  There  was  no  owner  in  sight,  but  when 
he  crossed  the  street  Felix  noticed,  just  within  the  dark 
doorway,  a  figure  that  he  knew  to  be  the  dispossessed 
tenant.  She  sat  on  a  little  stool,  her  face  hidden  upon  her 
slender,  outstretched  arms,  her  hat  lying  on  the  ground, 
her  rich  hair  disheveled  and  hanging  down  her  back,  and 
she  was  sobbing  convulsively.  Felix  assumed  that  she  was 
a  grasshopper ;  but,  grasshopper  or  not,  he  longed  to  have 
the  money  to  give  her  back  her  little  sticks  of  furniture 
and  her  white  curtains.  She  was  bewailing  them  as  a 
mother  laments  her  children. 

40.    "  Oh,  my  little  dressing  table !  "  she  wailed.    "  My 
dear,  dear  little  dressing  table,  with  the  curtains  I  made, 

foreshadowing  of  one  part  of  the  outcome — Lenoir's  designation 
as  king  of  the  poets  (see  also  par.  72) ;  in  par.  47  (fourth  sen- 
tence) is  a  hint  of  another  part  of  the  outcome — Raymond's 
possession  and  Lenoir's  non-possession  of  the  girl.  The  appear- 
ance of  Mile.  Dupre  in  the  story  and  the  impression  made  by  her 
on  Lenoir  (par.  44)  and  Raymond  (par.  47)  may  be  regarded 
as  the  generating  circumstance  (with  discovery)  for  that  part 
of  the  plot  (see  comment  on  story  as  a  whole,  6,  end,  and  on 
par.  IS,  end),  concerned  with  Lenoir's  spiritual  realization  of 
his  ideal  of  woman  and  his  missing  of  the  satisfaction  of  human 
companionship  with  her. — Pars.  61,  67,  and  passim.  This  Mile. 
Dupre,  teacher  of  languages  and  realization  of  a  poet's  dream 
of  womanhood,  is  not  merely  an  abstraction — an  inhumanly 
bloodless  creature  of  perfection.  She  is  a  very-much-alive  French 
woman,  and  therefore  she  "  can't  make  her  eyes  behave  "  more 
than  they  ought  to.  It  will  pay  the  student  to  write  a  sum- 
marizing analysis,  or  descriptive  character-sketch,  of  Mile.  Dupre 
in  order  to  note  how  clearly  her  character  is  defined  in  the 
author's  conception,  and  how  self-consistent  it  is.  S.  S.  M.,  214: 1; 
217:4;  91:13;  especially  52:17-54. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  491 

and  I  went  without  any  dinner  for  three  days  to  buy 
them !  " 

41.  So  great  was  the  noise  and  talk  and  laughter  and 
chaffing  around  the  goods  on  the  sidewalk  that  nobody  but 
Felix  noticed  the  weeping  girl  within  the  doorway. 

42.  The  auctioneer  began  his  tale,  and  the  usual  ridicu- 
lous bids  were  made.  One  student  offered  five  hundred 
francs  for  the  little  dressing  table,  because  a  pretty  girl 
had  once  looked  at  herself  in  that  glass.  Another  one  pro- 
fessed a  willingness  to  give  a  second  five  hundred  francs 
for  a  dozen  little  books,  most  of  them  premiums  at  school. 
Raymond  was  examining  the  books,  and  suddenly  seeing  a 
little  manuscript  volume,  he  turned  over  its  leaves  un- 
ceremoniously. Something  pasted  in  it  struck  his  atten- 
tion. He  stopped  his  running  fire  of  jokes  and  quips,  and 
read  for  a  couple  of  minutes.  Then,  raising  the  volume 
aloft,  he  shouted  above  the  din : 

43.  "  I  will  give  a  thousand  francs  for  this  volume, 
because  it  contains  a  poem  of  twenty  lines  that  could  not 
be  better  if  it  had  been  done  by  a  member  of  the  French 
Academy  or  the  Poets'  Club  at  the  Black  Cat.  Listen,  all 
of  you  who  have  souls  !  " 

44.  The  auctioneer  went  on  with  his  business,  while  a 
dozen  youngsters  and  their  friends  gathered  around  Ray- 
mond, who  began  to  read  the  poem.  And,  oh,  glory! 
Felix  heard  his  own  poem  read  in  Raymond's  rich  voice. 
While  the  reading  was  going  on,  the  girl  who  was  the  dis- 
possessed owner  stopped  weeping  and  raised  her  head. 
One  look  at  her  nunlike  face  filled  Felix  with  shame  and 
horror  at  himself  that  ever  he  should  have  suspected  her 
of  being  a  grasshopper.  He  knew  that  there  were  but  two 
kinds  of  women  in  the  world — the  good  ones  and  the  bad 


4t)'2  Today's  Siiokt  Stories  Analyzkd 

ones — and  that  generally  their  characters  arc  writ  hirgc  in 
their  eyes.  This  girl  was  the  soul  of  purity  and  piety,  and 
it  showed  in  her  tear-drenched  face — the  face  that  Felix 
had  seen  in  his  dreams. 

45.  It  was  as  if  the  charm  of  the  poem  that  Raymond 
was  declaiming  thrilled  her  as  it  thrilled  Felix,  and,  in- 
deed, most  of  those  who  listened.  When  it  was  over,  the 
crowd  applauded,  and  some  real  bids  were  made  for  the 
little  book.  The  girl  began  to  cry  again,  and  came  out, 
bareheaded  and  sobbing,  into  the  street. 

46.  "  Please  give  me  back  my  little  book !  It  is  not 
worth  anything  to  anybody.  It  cost  but  half  a  franc,  and 
has  nothing  in  it  but  some  poems  I  pasted  or  copied  in 
it !  "  she  cried. 

47.  The  students  and  the  young  women  with  them 
stopped  laughing  and  making  their  grotesque  bids.  Their 
hearts  were  touched.  ISTot  so  the  auctioneer,  or  the  sharp- 
ers who  wanted  to  buy  the  furniture.  As  for  Raymond, 
the  girl's  aspect  struck  him  as  quickly  and  poignantly  as 
it  bad  struck  poor  Felix.  Only,  Raymond  had  some 
money,  and  Felix  had  none.  Raymond  had  just  been  paid 
his  weekly  salary.  He  pulled  out  some  bank  notes,  and 
said  with  authority: 

48.  "  I  will  satisfy  the  judgment,  and  these  things  may 
be  returned.     How  much  is  it  the  young  lady  owes  ?  " 

49.  "  Fifty-nine  francs,"  rejilied  the  auctioneer. 

50.  "  Here  it  is,"  said  Raymond,  counting  out  the 
money.  And  then,  addressing  the  girl,  he  said,  with  a  low 
bow :  "  Mademoiselle,  will  you  allow  me  the  privilege  of 
carrying  the  dressing  table  back  where  it  belongs  ?  " 

51.  The  girl,  who  had  stopped  crying,  looked  at  him 
for  a  moment  or  two.    Then  the  extent  of  her  good  fortune 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  493 

dawned  upon  her,  and  a  brilliant  smile  broke  over  her 
face,  which  was  still  wet  with  tears. 

52.  ''  Thank  you,  monsieur,"  she  murmured,  and, 
catching  her  little  book,  she  pressed  it  to  her  heart. 

53.  The  crowd,  seeing  that  there  was  to  be  no  auction, 
after  all,  quickly  dispersed,  except  Raymond,  and  half  a 
dozen  students,  and  Felix.  Each  one  seized  a  chair  or  a 
table  or  some  other  piece  of  furniture  and  proceeded  to 
carry  it  up  the  rickety  stairs  to  the  tiny  room  on  the  top 
floor,  where  the  girl  lived.  On  the  door  was  painted  a 
little  sign,  "  Mademoiselle  Eenee  Dupre,  Teacher  of  Lan- 
guages." That  explained  to  Felix  the  books  he  had 
noticed. 

54.  Felix  did  his  part  in  carrying  up  the  furniture, 
and  studied  well  the  face  of  Mademoiselle  Eenee.  Yes, 
indeed,  hers  was  the  face  for  which  his  poet's  soul  had 
been  looking !  It  was  so  delicate,  so  spirituelle,  so  full  of 
hidden  fire !  She  thanked  them  timidly  for  their  kind- 
ness, and  when  she  attempted  to  thank  Raymond,  broke 
down  and  wept  again. 

55.  "  You  must  give  me  your  address,  monsieur,"  she 
said  to  Raymond.  "  I  will  send  you  the  money  in  a  lit- 
tle while ;  but  I  can  never,  never  repay  your  kindness." 

56.  "  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Raymond,  with  his 
captivating  smile,  "  I  do  not  wish  you  to  repay  me  the 
money;  I  wish  to  have  that  much  laid  up  where  neither 
moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt,  nor  thieves  break  through  and 
steal." 

57.  "  But  I  must  pay  it  back,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Renee,  with  the  quick  conscientiousness  of  her  kind. 
"  And  I  ask  you  to  give  me  your  card." 

58.  "  I  regret,"  said  Raymond,  with  a  flourishing  bow, 


494  Today's  Short  Stoeies  Analyzed 

"  that  I  have  not  a  card  about  me ;  but  I  will  tell  you  who 
I  am,  if  you  desire.  I  am  Kaiser  Wilhelm,  visiting  Paris 
incognito,  and  this  " — pointing  to  Felix — "  is  my  impe- 
rial chancellor,  Otto  von  Bismarck." 

59.  Then,  waving  his  hand  magnificently,  Raymond 
proceeded  to  introduce  the  laughing  crew  around 
him. 

60.  "  This  is  Monsieur  Clemenceau,  premier  of 
France ;  and  this  is  General  Brugere,  minister  of  war. 
Here  is  Professor  Curie,  the  great  discoverer  of  radium. 
Also,  let  me  present  Monsieur  Sully-Prudhomme,  winner 
of  the  Xobel  prize  for  literature,  an  honor  scarcely  infe- 
rior to  the  election  as  king  of  poets  in  the  Latin  Quarter. 
The  last  king  elected  was  Raymond  d'Artigny — an  excel- 
lent fellow  and  a  sublime  poet." 

61.  Cheers  interrupted  Raymond  at  this  point,  and 
Mademoiselle  Renee's  April  face  showed  a  smile  that  be- 
gan with  her  eyes  and  ended  with  her  mouth. 

62.  "  You  are  pleased  to  jest,  monsieur,"  she  said. 
"  But  you  have  done  me  a  kindness  which  will  remain  in 
my  heart  forever.  I  shall  remember  you  in  my  prayers. 
I  thank  all  of  you  for  your  kindness." 

63.  She  looked  around  the  little  circle,  and  her  soft 
eyes  rested  upon  Felix,  who  had  toiled  upstairs  half  a 
dozen  times  carrying  burdens. 

64.  "  And  especially  this  gentleman,  who  has  worked 
so  hard  for  me." 

65.  Felix  made  no  pretensions  to  being  a  gentleman, 
but  all  the  pieces  of  furniture  he  had  carried  up  seemed 
as  light  as  a  feather  when  he  thought  of  Mademoiselle 
Renee's  soft  eyes  and  of  his  poem  in  the  little  manuscript 
book. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  495 

66.  "  I  have  one  favor  to  ask,"  said  Raymond.  "  Will 
you  permit  me  to  make  a  copy  of  the  poem  in  your  manu- 
script book  ?  " 

67.  "  Rather,"  answered  Mademoiselle  Renee  sweetly, 
and  with  a  lovely  sidelong  glance  all  her  own,  "  would  I 
ask  you  to  accept  of  the  little  book.  I  know  all  the  poems 
in  it  by  heart." 

68.  Raymond  kissed  the  little  book,  put  it  in  his  breast 
pocket,  and  made  a  profound  bow. 

69.  "  It  shall  remain  with  me  as  long  as  I  live,"  he 
said,  "  and  when  my  chair  in  the  French  Academy  is 
draped  for  my  death,  this  book  will  rest  upon  it.  Will 
you  do  me  the  kindness  to  tell  me  the  author  of  the  poem 
I  read  aloud  just  now  ?  " 

70.  "  I  wish  I  knew^,"  replied  Mademoiselle  Renee. 
"  All  I  can  tell  you  is  that  one  day,  sitting  at  my  window 
and  being  very  sad,  I  saw  the  paper  lying  on  the  window 
ledge,  blown  here  by  the  wind.  I  took  it  up  and  read  it, 
and  it  soothed  my  poor  heart.  Ever  since,  when  the  world 
has  scowled  at  me,  I  have  read  that  poem.  It  is  so 
sweet !  " 

71.  The  heart  of  Felix  throbbed  with  ecstasy ;  the  lady 
of  his  dreams  loved  his  poem !  Was  ever  mortal  man  so 
blest  as  he! 

72.  "  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  find  the  author,"  replied 
Raymond,  "  and  if  he  can  be  discovered,  I  promise  you  he 
shall  be  elected  king  of  the  poets  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  the 
greatest  honor  for  a  poet.  I  have  the  honor  to  bid  you 
good  afternoon,  mademoiselle." 

73.  Then  all  of  the  young  men  trooped  down  the  stairs. 
Felix  followed,  and  carried  away  in  his  heart  the  memory 
of  the  soft  "  thank  you  "  of  Mademoiselle  Renee. 


406  Today's  Suokt  Stories  Analyzed 

74.  This  was  on  a  Saturday,  the  last  Saturday  but  one 
bcfori'  the  thirty-first  of  December.  By  that  time  a  hur- 
ricaue  of  excitement  raged  in  the  Black  Cat  over  the  com- 
ing election.  The  whole  night  was  consumed  in  fierce 
debate  among  the  poets,  and  when  the  solemn  bell  of  the 
Angclus  sounded  from  without,  a  voice  seemed  to  come 
from  anotlier  world,  far  off  and  full  of  peace.  Immedi- 
ately, there  was  a  stampede  to  see  the  Fiddle  discharge  its 
guests,  and  presently  Felix  went  out,  not  indeed  to  see  the 
sight,  but  to  inhale  a  breath  of  the  cold,  pure  air  of  the 
wintry  dawn. 

75.  Just  as  he  got  outside,  a  merry  little  grasshopper 
ran  up  to  him,  and,  linking  her  arm  in  his,  proceeded  to 
dance  toward  the  church,  making  Felix  dance,  too.  But, 
oh  misery  and  shame!  Just  as  he  reached  the  church 
steps,  he  saw  Mademoiselle  Eenee  tripping  into  the 
church,  her  slim  figure  all  in  black,  her  sweet  face  half 
hidden  by  a  close,  black  veil.  Felix  w'riggled  away  from 
the  grasshopper,  and,  turning  to  look,  saw  Raymond  doing 
the  same  ungallant  thing.  Each  went  alone  into  the  dim 
church,  and  saw  Mademoiselle  Eenee  kneeling  in  a  dark 
corner  by  a  pillar.  Her  eyes,  rapt  and  serenely  soft, 
looked  to  Felix  like  the  eyes  of  the  pale  Madonna  over 
the  altar. 

74.  Observe  the  way  the  transition  is  made.  Cf.  the  transition 
from  par.  36  to  par.  37.  Great  skill  is  shown  in  maintaining 
connection  between  the  pai'ts  of  this  story.  Find  other  examples. 
— Observe  how  the  last  sentence  keeps  Lenoir  true  to  the  char- 
acter conceived  for  him,  and  freshens  our  recollection  of  it. 

75.  Situation  hints  involving  mood  hints  (mental  state) ; 
S.  S.  M.,  257:  character  hints. — Note  the  way  in  which  (last  sen- 
tence) Lenoir's  state  of  mind  is  indicated  without  use  of  psycho- 
logical narration  (S.  S.  M.,  228)  ;  see  S.  S.  M.,  50: 15.— The  next 
three  paragraphs  are  of  the  same  sort. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  497 

76.  Felix  had  a  notion  that  Mademoiselle  Renee  came 
every  morning  to  the  little  church,  and  he  got  into  the  evil 
habit  of  breaking  his  few  short  hours  of  sleep  at  six 
o'clock  every  morning,  to  be  rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of 
Mademoiselle  Renee  mounting  the  church  steps.  On  the 
following  Sunday  morning,  he  remained  in  hiding  until 
every  blessed  grasshopper  was  out  of  sight.  So  did  Ray- 
mond, who  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  and,  nudging 
Felix,  said: 

77.  "  Remember,  you  scoundrel,  that  you  have  never 
seen  me  speak  to  a  grasshopper.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

78.  Felix  understood. 

79.  Then  the  time  was  at  hand  for  the  great  election. 
The  event  was  so  important  that  on  the  night  of  Saturday, 
the  thirty-first  of  December,  when  a  minor  poet  at  the 
Black  Cat  ventured  to  speak  of  the  chances  of  a  general 
European  war,  he  was  howled  down,  and  told  not  to  inter- 
rupt the  proceedings  with  drivel  about  trifles. 

80.  The  cafe  was  crowded,  and  the  tables  were  set 
together  so  as  to  form  one  long  table,  extending  from  end 
to  end  of  the  low-ceiled  room.     Raymond  d'Artigny,  as 


79.  The  last  (third)  plot  incident  begins. — Observe  the  one- 
sentence  transition  that  is  able  to  account  for  nearly  a  week's 
time.  Note  too  its  almost  Biblical  style — brevity,  simplicity, 
completeness. 

80-81.  Study  the  way  in  which  the  description  is  managed. 
Note  how  the  impression  of  crowd  and  confusion  is  obtained ;  how 
the  picture  is  given  outline  and  concreteness — the  long  table  in  the 
low-ceiled  room,  with  three  prominent  persons.  These  represent 
different  elements  of  the  scene.  Raymond,  at  the  head  of  the  long 
table,  implies  all  the  literary  guests  filling  the  length  of  the  board. 
Lasalle,  trigged  out  in  evening  clothes  and  prosperous  ornaments, 
gives,  as  he  moves  about  among  the  guests,  a  color-and-costumo 


498  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

retiring  king  of  tlio  poets,  had  the  head  of  the  table. 
Lasalle  was  on  hand  in  evening  dress,  his  ample  white 
waistcoat  decorated  with  a  stupendous  gold  chain,  which 
would  have  answered  equally  well  for  a  watch  or  for  a 
dog,  giving  orders  that  nobody  heeded,  stopping  the  wait- 
ers to  tell  them  to  make  haste,  and  making  himself  gen- 
erally important  and  ridiculous. 

81.  Felix  scurried  about,  his  sallow  face  a  little  paler 
from  hard  work  and  excitement,  and  his  lanky  hair  stick- 
ing to  his  head  with  the  dampness.  Never  was  there  so 
uproarious  a  night  at  the  Black  Cat,  and  there  had  been 
a  number  of  uproarious  nights  there.  Everybody  shouted 
and  nobody  listened,  meals  were  ordered  and  never  eaten, 
while  patrons  consumed  one  another's  drinks  promis- 
cuously. 


and  a  bearing  contrast;  he  represents,  on  the  side  of  character- 
quality,  bourgeois  dignity,  self-importance,  and  dumbness;  and  he 
is  necessary  in  such  a  scene  for  verisimilitude,  because  the  pro- 
prietor is  usually  present  in  the  cafe.  (The  principle  of  S.  S.  M., 
91 :  13-14  applies  in  description.  Effective  description  calls  for 
care  in  the  economy  of  detail — S.  S.  M.,  80 :  3 — with  selection  only 
of  that  which  is  most  representative  of  the  aspect  to  be  sug- 
gested. Cf.  S.  S.  M.,  60 :  17 ;  116,  end  of  par.  2 ;  182 :  6.)  Lenoir 
represents  another  element  of  such  a  scene — the  activity  and  the 
picture  quality  inherent  in  the  presence  of  waiters  (see  how  true 
to  fact  the  picture-hint  of  him  is).  It  will  be  noted  that  two  of 
these  three  persons  are  persons  of  direct  plot  value.  The  remain- 
ing sentences  convey  more  fully  the  impi'ession  of  crowd  and 
excitement. — What  feeling  for  psychological  values  led  the  author 
to  write  out  "  Raymond  D'Artigny  "  in  full  (par.  80,  sentence  2), 
and  curtly  to  say  "Lasalle"?  Why  is  Lenoir  so  often  spoken 
of  as  Felix?  Why  is  D'Artigny  also  mentioned  frequently  by 
his  name  of  Raymond? — Why  is  Lenoii^'s  lack  of  physical  at- 
tractiveness repeatedly  put  before  us,  as  in  par.  81?  Cf.  th- 
mention  made  of  Raymond  in  various  passages.  See  S.  S.  M. 
223 :  10. 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  499 

82.  The  discussion  began  at  midnight,  and  was  in  full 
blast  all  night.  The  situation  was  complicated  by  the 
fact  that  every  man  present  was  a  candidate,  and  followed 
the  advice  of  Niccolo  Fachiavelli,  to  take  his  own  part. 
Raymond  d'Artigny  harangued,  scolded,  shouted,  laughed, 
and  menaced,  but  nobody  heeded  him.  At  last,  taking  off 
his  shoe  he  rapped  violently  with  it  on  the  table  and  con- 
tinued to  make  himself  heard.  A  viva-voce  ballot  was 
taken.  Every  man  shouted  out  his  own  name  for  the 
honor  of  king  of  the  poets. 

83.  "  Poets,"  cried  Raymond,  "  we  are  all  great,  that 
I  admit,  but  we  must  elect  a  king — a  worthy  successor  to 
myself!  Now  that  Beranger  and  Alfred  de  Musset  are 
dead,  it  will,  of  course,  be  a  difficult  task  to  find  a  fit  suc- 
cessor to  me,  Raymond  d'Artigny,  poet  and  journalist. 
But  there  is  a  man — an  unknown  man,  and  a  dweller  in 
the  Latin  Quarter — who  has  written  a  poem  worthy  of  me, 
of  Victor  Hugo,  of  Sully-Prudhomme,  of  anybody !  I  say 
he  dwells  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  because  only  among  us 
could  such  a  poet  be  found.  It  is  unnecessary  to  look  for 
great  poets  elsewhere. 

84.  Then  Raymond,  jumping  on  the  table,  took  from 


82-92.  In  this  and  nearly  all  the  paragraphs  following  is  much 
collective  characterization,  or  class  characterization  (cf.  S.  S.  M., 
257,  on  social  characterization  and  its  function).  Pick  out  the 
acts  and  speeches  that  represent  type  qualities  of  persons  of  this 
Bohemian-poet  class.  In  forming  an  opinion  of  the  class,  note 
that  the  author  does  not  exckide  the  impulses  of  unselfishness  and 
generosity  (par.  83). — Does  any  detail  offend,  i.e.,  seem  out  of 
keeping  with  the  prevailing  tone?  If  so,  is  this  the  effect  of 
excessive  concreteness  in  realistic  detail?  In  a  story  of  poetic 
idealism,  would  a  touch  of  the  burlesque  be  contradictory?  (On 
consistency  and  congruity,  see  S.  S.  M.,  91:13;  250,  "Is  it"). 


500  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

his  breast  pocket  the  little  manuscript  volume  given  him 
by  Mademoiselle  Rence,  and  also  a  copy  of  a  great  Paris 
newspaper.  The  noise  stopped,  and  the  silence  grew  in- 
tense, as  Raymond  spoke : 

85.  "  I  sent  this  poem  to  the  great  newspapers,  saying 
that  the  author  was  unknown.  See,  the  newspaper  has 
printed  it,  imploring  the  author,  for  the  honor  of  French 
literature,  to  reveal  himself.     Listen !  " 

86.  Eaymond  read  the  lines — read  them  with  such 
feeling,  such  pathos,  such  exquisite  intonation,  that  the 
music  of  his  voice  seemed  a  part  of  the  poem,  as  the  thril- 
ling of  the  lute  is  a  part  of  the  song.  Felix  listened  as  in 
a  dream. 

87.  As  the  last  perfect  line  was  read,  a  great  roar  of 
cheering  and  stamping  broke  forth. 

88.  "  The  unknown  is  king !  The  unknown  is  king !  " 
they  yelled. 

89.  Eaymond,  by  taking  off  both  shoes  and  pounding 


86.  Observe  the  sudden  passage  from  the  humorous  to  the 
earnest.  This  quick,  natural  setting  off  of  one  mood  with  another 
is  very  effective,  if  well  clone,  as  in  the  contrast  passages  in  this 
story.  The  contrast  must  be  true,  however,  and  enter  the  story 
with  great  naturalness ;  othenvise  it  seems  like  straining  for  effect. 
— Probably  the  decisive  moment  (S.  S.  M.,  94:  5)  comes  with  Ray- 
mond's reading  of  Lenoir's  poem,  so  far  as  the  objective,  or  struc- 
tural, plot  is  concerned.  But  in  the  effect  of  the  story,  there  is 
a  second  decisive  point  (par.  100) — when  Raymond  is  con- 
clusively identified  as  Mile.  Dupre's  accepted. 

87-88.  Note  their  brevity  and  sufficiency.  The  unskilled  writer 
would  be  likely  to  tiy  to  emphasize  the  importance  of  the  action 
by  amplifying.  That  would  thwart  his  purpose.  Cf.  S.  S.  M., 
67 :  18.  On  the  adequacy  of  the  few  words  employed,  see  S.  S.  M., 
66 :  17. 

89.  Cf.  the  comment  on  par.  86. — How  many  different  moods 
are  to  be  felt  in  pars.  86-89?    Name  them, 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  501 

them  with  both  hands  on  the  table,  secured  a  moment's 
lull. 

90.  "  Immortals,"  he  cried,  "  listen  to  a  fellow  im- 
mortal !  I  have  this  day  come  into  a  triple  inheritance. 
I  have  secured  the  love  of  the  lady  of  my  heart;  I  have 
inherited  a  competence  in  fortune ;  and  I  have  made  known 
to  the  world  the  greatest  poet  of  the  Latin  Quarter.  I  ask 
you  to  drink  the  health  of  the  unknown  poet  in  cham- 
pagne." 

91.  This  paralyzed  the  crowd;  it  seemed  too  good  to  be 
true ;  but  when  Felix  and  Lasalle  himself  began  filling  the 
extraordinary  order,  they  believed  it.  ]^ot  only  did  every 
patron  of  the  Black  Cat  that  night  drink  champagne,  but 
a  wizen-faced  cabman  outside  had  his  glass,  and  Raymond, 
with  his  own  hands,  poured  a  bottle  into  a  pail,  and,  tak- 
ing it  out,  treated  the  cabman's  sorry  horse  to  such  a  draft 
as  he  had  never  had  before  in  his  melancholy  life,  and 
made  him  frisk  all  over  the  place. 

92.  The  unknown  was  king — that  was  settled.  Mean- 
while, the  unknown  went  about  his  humble  duties,  clean- 
ing up  the  debris  and  trying  to  get  things  in  some  sort  of 
order.     Suddenly,  while  the  fun  was  still  roaring,   the 


90.  Consider  sentence  3.  Has  the  fact  of  riches  been  prepared 
for?  Does  it  need  to  be;  i.e.,  does  it  now  strike  us  too  abruptly? 
Can  you  see  any  way  of  preparing  us  for  the  announcement 
without  blemishing  the  story?  Would  an  additional  sentence  in 
par.  80  (following  sentence  2)  be  noticed  unpleasantly,  to  the 
effect  that  Raymond  was  better  dressed  than  usual  and  had  an 
unwonted  air  of  prosperity?  In  some  earlier  speech,  could  he 
refer  to  postponed  expectations? 

92.  Suppose  the  story  has  been  made  to  stop  here.  Then  read 
S.  S.  M.,  169: 1-3.  Does  this  story  need  a  distinct  ending?  What 
— if  anything — is  accomplished  by  means  of  the  paragraphs  that 
follow  from  this  point?    S.  S.  M.,  117;  4-121;  169-173. 


502  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

soiiml  of  tlio  Angclus  bell  from  the  little  church  boomed 
in  the  darkness  outside.  It  was  the  signal  for  everybody 
to  rush  across  the  street  and  take  part  in  the  final  cere- 
monies of  the  Fiddle. 

93.  The  doors  of  the  police  station  were  surrounded  by 
the  usual  laughing,  pushing,  weeping  crew,  and  the  two- 
franc  pieces  w^ere  being  shoved  into  the  little  window  to 
the  guardian  of  the  peace,  who  took  them.  The  crowds, 
augmented  by  that  from  the  Black  Cat,  made  the  narrow 
little  street  populous  and  hilarious.  A  couple  of  gas 
lamps  flickered  in  the  blackness,  and  a  great  flood  of  light 
from  the  windows  of  the  cafe  and  the  glaring  lanterns  at 
the  Fiddle  illuminated  the  throng. 

94.  Immediately  the  procession  was  made  to  the  church. 
Two  men,  however,  Raymond  and  Felix,  slipped  out  and 
were  waiting  on  the  church  steps.  By  that  time,  Mademoi- 
selle Renee  had  appeared  and  passed  like  a  shadow  through 
the  door  held  open  by  the  stern-faced  ecclesiastic.  Di- 
rectly after  her  went  Raymond,  who  followed  her  to  her 
place  behind  the  pillar,  and  kneeled  next  her.  In  the 
gloom  of  the  little  church,  Felix  watched  them,  kneeling  a 
little  way  off,  where  he  could  see  their  faces.  Raymond 
looked  at  Renee  with  adoring  eyes,  and  the  girl  looked  at 

94.  Last  sentence:  To  what  extent  is  the  act  characteristic  of 
human  nature,  and  to  what  extent  does  it  characterize  the  persons 
as  individuals?  Is  the  behavior  of  Lenoir  (preceding  sentence) 
consistent  with  his  character  (cf.,  besides  others,  par.  101)  ? — The 
reader  even  yet  probably  feels  that  Lenoir  may  turn  out  to  be 
Mile.  Dupre's  preference;  it  is  this  feeling  that  gives  the  falling 
action  suspense  and  so  cai'ries  our  interest  to  the  end.  S.  S.  M., 
74 :  B  and  note ;  93  :  4.  Are  there  two  climactic  moments ;  cf . 
pars.  83-91.  Are  both  emotional?  Which  is  the  more  intense? 
Does  the  situation  in  pars.  94-101  constitute  the  emotional  acme 
of  the  story? 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  503 

the  altar,  with  a  rapture  of  love  and  faith  in  her  delicate, 
speaking  face. 

95.  Like  ghosts,  the  crowd  from  the  Black  Cat  and 
from  the  Fiddle  moved  into  the  church,  and  almost  filled 
it.  Never  was  there  a  multitude  more  devout,  partly  be- 
cause they  were  compelled  to  be  quiet,  and  partly  because 
it  was  the  custom,  and  partly  because  the  mighty  hand  of 
mysticism  was  laid  upon  them,  and  the  sanctuary  lamp 
showed  them  the  place  where  resided  the  Presence. 

96.  In  the  midst  of  the  silence  came  the  deep  roll  of  the 
organ,  and  the  choir  began  the  Christmas  hymn.     It  sang 


95.  "  Like  ghosts."  As  a  picture-hint  (S.  S.  M.,  257-258),  this 
is  accurate  (see  facts  of  time  and  light  in  par.  93) ;  but  is  it  true 
to  the  fact  as  a  mood  hint?  Is  this  story  a  dream  story  or  a 
real-life  story — i.e.,  which  does  it  concretely  embody,  ideals,  or 
facts  of  life  as  it  is  ordinarily  experienced  ("realism")?  The 
author  is  reporting  life  as  she  dreams  its  ultimate  truths  to  be, 
and  as  these  truths  are  opposed  to  the  practical  daily  facts  that 
appear  on  the  surface,  her  treatment  and  mood  alike  have  a 
quality  of  the  immaterial.  However  concrete  the  embodiment  she 
gives  her  leading  figures,  they  remain  nevertheless  spiritual  types. 
Like  ghosts  of  the  final  truths  of  life,  they  move  before  her 
imagination  and  our  vision.  Most  likely  the  comparison,  "  like 
ghosts,"  was  not  chosen  intentionally  through  any  such  course  of 
reasoning,  and  it  may  have  occurred  to  her  merely  as  part  of 
her  artist's  conception  of  the  physical  scene.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  may  very  well  have  been  intentionally  selected;  for  the  artist 
is  a  workman  as  well  as  a  dreamer,  and  has  the  skill  of  the 
workman  in  consciously  selecting  the  means  that  will  express  with 
precision  and  effectiveness  what  his  artist's  vision  perceives.  In 
any  case,  there  is  always  a  truth  discoverable  under  any  coherent 
body  of  facts  that  are  true  to  nature;  see  S.  S.  M.,  35:21-22. 

96-98.  The  emotional  acme  of  the  story,  and  in  one  sense,  the 
main  situation,  is  here.  We  cannot  call  it  the  main  plot  situation, 
however,  except  by  regarding  the  plot  as  one  of  spiritual,  not 
external,  incident ;  and  though  the  carrying  plot  here  is  slight,  it 
consists  of  external  incident.    See  introd.  note  5. 


504  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

one  verse  of  the  hymn  welcoming  the  Divine  Child,  and 
then  sank  into  silence,  only  one  voice  cleaving  the  air  with 
mnsic,  and  singing  "  Vcnite  adoremus."  Again  the  words 
floated  out,  this  time  with  two  voices,  the  sharp  sweetness 
of  the  soprano  mingling  with  the  deeper  melody  of  the 
alto.  All  at  once  the  choir  burst  forth  into  a  great  musical 
cry  of  "  Venite  adoremus!    Dominum." 

97.  The  noble  hymn  of  joy  and  welcome  thrilled  all 
who  heard  it.  There  were  no  distinctions.  Pale  mothers 
and  angry  fathers  were  one  with  the  painted  grasshoppers, 
who,  for  one  moment,  became  innocent  women,  and  wore 
the  same  look  upon  their  glorified  faces,  the  look  of  the 
Blessed  Mother  who  held  the  little  Child  Jesus  in  her 
arms.  For  a  brief  minute,  the  world  and  all  its  wicked- 
ness was  forgotten  in  one  mighty  act  of  supreme  welcome 
and  adoration. 

98.  The  organ  pealed  and  thundered,  and  the  choir 
sang  on.  Outside  in  the  street,  little  boys  shouted: 
"  Noel !  ISToel !  "  Then  came  the  awful  moment  of  the 
elevation,  when  all  sounds  melted  away  into  a  solemn  si- 
lence which  lasted  for  a  brief  time.  Then  once  more  the 
joyous  Christmas  music  began,  and  lasted  until  the  lights 
were  put  out  on  the  altar,  and  only  the  ever-present  sanc- 
tuary lamp  gleamed. 

99.  The  people  trooped  out  of  the  church  and  resumed 


97.  "Pale  mothers.  ..."  Cf.  par.  6.  Little  is  once  intro- 
duced into  this  story  that  is  not  made  to  do  duty  again.  In  later 
situations,  the  story  uses  details  already  introduced,  as  the  means 
to  producing  the  effects  desired.  This  results  in  close  coherence 
of  effect  and  represents  great  economy  of  detail  (S.  S.  M., 
80:3;  116:2). 

99-101.  Relaxes,  but  not  too  abruptly,  the  intensity  of  the  pre- 
ceding paragi'aph,  and  helps  to  provide  the  last  of  the  contrasts 


The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  505 

their  everyday  characters.  The  grasshoppers  were  grass- 
hoppers still,  and  the  tipsy  boys  and  fighting,  drinking, 
disreputable  men  and  women  were  ready  to  go  back  to 
their  everyday  employments  of  fighting  and  drinking  and 
tippling  and  dancing  and  all  manner  of  gay  wickedness. 
But  they  had  experienced  one  of  those  moments  in  which 
all  men  and  women  are  of  kin,  all  are  the  children  of  the 
good  God. 

100.  Mademoiselle  Eenee  walked  down  the  steps  of  the 
church  alone;  Eaymond  was  a  little  way  off.  He  would 
not  violate  propriety  so  much  as  to  be  seen  in  the  street 
with  Mademoiselle  Eenee,  but  when  he  took  off  his  hat 
to  her  in  the  cold,  gray  dawn  and  she  gave  him  her  be- 
witching sidelong  glance,  their  hearts  spoke  the  language 
known  to  all  who  love. 


through  which  so  much  of  the  effect  of  this  story  comes.  Here  we 
have  the  ordinary  mob  of  citizens  returning  unchanged  to  their 
mediocre  ways  after  passing  through  a  great  and  inspiring  emo- 
tional experience.  Not  so  Lenoir  (par.  101).  In  spite  of  human 
disappointment,  his  spirit  remains  exalted.  Between  these  two 
extremes  are  Raymond  and  Mile.  Dupre — the  one  softened  and 
raised  by  divine  worship  and  human  love,  the  other  exalted  by 
the  service,  but  softened  and  drawn  to  earth  by  human  affection. 
— Observe  that,  if  we  count  the  emotional  situation  developed  in 
pars.  92-98  as  an  essential  part  of  the  body  of  the  story — the 
grand  climax  and  closing  episode  of  the  spiritual  plot — then  the 
close  of  the  story  occupies  only  the  three  paragraphs — 99,  100, 
101.  If  we  do  not  regard  the  story  as  having  a  spiritual  or 
emotional  plot-plan  (as  w^ell  as  a  plot  of  external  incident),  the 
election  of  Lenoir  as  king-poet  ends  the  last  incident  that  con- 
nects itself  with  the  plot,  and  the  pars.  92-101  must  be  deemed 
a  separate  close.  Inasmuch  as  the  outcome  of  the  external  plot — 
Lenoir's  election — is  not  the  total  outcome  of  the  situation,  we 
seem  almost  warranted  in  saying  that  there  is  a  plot  of  spiritual 
fact  as  well  as  a  true  plot  of  outward  incident,  and  that  the 
outcome  of  the  spiritual  "  plot "    (situation   involving  opposed 


500  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

101.  There  was  not  much  doing  at  the  Black  Cat,  and 
Felix  remained  in  the  church.  His  heart  was  strangely 
chill,  but  his  spirit  soared  like  a  bird.  lie  was  only  a 
head  waiter,  but  he  had  seen  the  lady  of  his  dreams,  and 
he  could,  if  he  chose,  have  been  king  of  all  the  poets  in 
the  Latin  Quarter — that  is  to  say,  of  all  the  poets  in  the 
world. 


spiritual  forces)  is  found  in  par.  92  to  the  end.  But  this  mate- 
rial is  readily  classifiable  as  intensifying  material,  intended  to 
have  emotional  appeal  (S.  S.  M.,  63: 14;  65: 16) ;  hence  our  con- 
elusion  becomes  a  matter  of  choosing  terms  without  altering  essen- 
tial facts. — Observe  that  the  story  ends  with  attention  on  Lenoir, 
but  that  the  two  accessory  persons  are  also  kept  before  us  up 
to  the  last  paragraph  but  one.  The  management  that  thus  keeps 
the  most  significant  figures  before  us  to  the  end  is  skillful 
dramaturgy.  To  drop  important  persons  before  the  decisive 
moment  or  the  grand  climax  often  leaves  the  reader  with  a  sense 
of  unsatisfied  interest,  and  is  to  be  avoided.  On  the  other  hand, 
secondary  persons  usually  must — we  speak  now  only  of  the  conte 
— be  got  out  of  the  way  before  the  very  last,  in  order  that  the 
leading  person  may  have  our  closing  thought.  They  may  of 
course  still  be  on  the  stage,  but  they  must  not  take  the  center  of 
it,  nor  enter  the  spotlight,  except  to  contribute  emphasis  to  the 
chief  actor. 


THE  OPAL  MORNING 
The  Stoey  as  a  Whole 

1.  In  "  The  Opal  Morning  "  we  have  a  character  story 
(S.  S.  M.,  25:5,  43:1-7  and  ff.  to  54).  Its  motif 
(S.  S.M.,  96 :  10)  is  expression  of  the  existence  of  deeper 
and  finer  ideals  beneath  what  circumstances  may  make 
most  obvious  in  the  life  of  the  individual.  This  thought 
the  author  presents  to  us  by  means  of  two  definitely  con- 
ceived persons  in  a  course  of  action  representative  of  life 
in  a  particular  kind  of  uncongenial  environment,  and  cul- 
minating in  a  climactic  situation  with  a  conclusive  out- 
come; the  whole  producing  an  atmosphere  of  selfish  sor- 
didness  gradually  displaced  by  higher  motive. 

2.  The  struggle  necessary  to  dramatic  presentation  is 
that  of  the  higher  ideals  and  sympathies  to  express  them- 
selves in  an  opposed  environment,  and  to  triumph  over 
the  deadening  influence  of  these  hostile  forces.  Allison 
attains  to  expression  of  his  better  self  through  his  poetry ; 
Helene  expresses  herself  through  music.  The  conclusive 
outcome  is  the  triumph  of  their  higher  natures,  beginning 
in  their  recognition  of  each  other  as  kindred  spirits,  and 
their  alliance  for  the  better  things  of  life.  (The  principle, 
that  the  conclusive  outcome  is  not  inevitable,  but  merely 
logical,  is  clearly  established  by  such  stories  as  "  The 
Opal  Morning."  With  a  little  shifting  of  emphasis,  Al- 
lison and  Helene  could  have  been  shown  as  electing  to 
persist  in  the  old  environment  and  life  instead  of  rising 
"  on  stepping  stones  of  their  dead  selves."     This  outcome 

607 


608  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

would  have  been  as  conclusive  as  the  other,  and  equally 
as  well  founded  as  an  interpretation  of  actual  life,  though 
it  would  not  have  been  as  satisfying  to  our  moral  sense. 
See  S.  S.  M.,  151  bottom  and  16:  3-4. — Had  the  outcome 
been  thus  changed,  we  should  have  lost  a  "  happy  ending," 
and  in  this  story  it  is  our  moral  sense  that  desires  the 
happy  ending.  From  this  consideration  we  can  draw  the 
conclusion,  that  the  happy  ending  is  at  times — depending 
on  the  theme  and  motif  of  the  particular  story — required 
for  the  sake  of  the  artistic  effect  through  which  the  inter- 
pretation of  life  is  to  be  accomplished.  Note,  however, 
that  in  truth  the  solution  of  a  problem  of  life  is  involved 
here  (which  course  is  the  more  desirable,  that  chosen  by 
the  tw^o  leading  persons  for  their  future,  or  that  abandoned 
by  them  in  making  the  choice?),  and  that  only  the  happy 
ending  permits  that  solution  which  our  ethical  sense  pre- 
fers. Therefore,  since  art  is  under  no  obligation  to  pro- 
pose problems,  and  still  less  to  offer  a  solution  of  them 
unless  it  chooses  so  to  do,  the  conclusion  drawn  above  will 
be  valid  only  for  stories  in  which  the  problem  plus  its 
solution  is  actually  involved  in  the  plan.  S.  S.  M., 
(26:1-3),  27:4-13;  178:1-3. 

3.  This  story  illustrates  also  the  possibility  of  utiliz- 
ing the  ''  love  element  "  without  throwing  it  into  chief 
prominence  or  making  its  foundation  in  "  sex  "  the  domi- 
nating fact.  From  this  point  of  view,  we  may  study  the 
narrative  as  an  example  of  subordination — the  keeping 
of  desirable  and  indeed  essential  facts  within  definite 
bounds,  determined  immediately  by  the  author's  concep- 
tion of  the  story,  and  ultimately  (if  we  so  choose  to  re- 
gard it)  by  instinctive  moral  preference  ("taste")  and 
fundamental  view  of  life.    For  the  student-writer,  the  sig- 


The  Opal  Morning  509" 

nificant  fact  is  the  possibility  noted  in  the  first  sentence 
of  this  note — that  the  love  element  can  be  utilized  without 
making  it  the  chief  raison  d'etre  for  the  story.  How  is  it 
with  ''  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  "  ?  "  The  Love  of  Men  "  ? 
"  A  Kag-Time  Lady  "  ?  Other  stories  in  this  volume  ?  To 
what  extent  is  sex,  as  such,  an  element  in  "  Tropics  "  ? 

4.  It  is  left  for  the  student  to  decide,  if  he  can,  whether 
''  The  Opal  Morning  "  is  most  a  story  of  plot,  of  theme, 
of  character,  or  of  atmosphere.  When  he  has  decided,  he 
may  refer  to  S.  S.  M.,  45 :  6-7  (sents.  1  and  2). 


THE  OPAL  MORNING 

By  Ethel  Watts  Mumford 

Reprinted  from  "  McClure's"  for  April,   1917,  by  Permission  of  the 

Editors  and  the  Author. 

(Copyright,  1917) 

1.  Amused  at  his  own  agitation,  Forbes  Allison  opened 
the  envelope  that  bore  the  imprint  of  the  clipping-bureau. 
Man  of  the  world  that  he  was,  successful,  tyrannical,  self- 
indulgent,  and  rather  unscrupulous,  he  was  wont  to  pat- 
ronize mildly  the  enthusiastic,  diffident,  emotional,  and 
idealistic  half  of  himself  that  shamefacedly  set  forth  its 
lyric  soul  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "  Forrest  Allyne." 

2.  The  notices  were  numerous  and  lengthy.  "  I,  Too, 
Have  Been  in  Arcady  "  had  proved  itself  a  volume  of  ex- 
ceptional verse.  Even  his  cynic  self  was  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge that  it  was  good.  It  had  warmth  and  fire;  it  had 
mood  and  magic.    He  grinned  as  he  thought  of  the  amaze- 


1-5.  Obser\'e  the  immediate  beginning,  with  sweeping  charac- 
terization. S.  S.  M.,  122 : 1-5 ;  137 :  2,  140 :  7-8 ;  148 :  17-19.  To 
what  extent  is  disarrangement  and  relocation  of  incident  (S.  S.  M., 
122:2)  employed  in  this  story?  Cf.  par.  6  and  later  passages. 
Note  the  amplifying  details  of  character  introduced  in  pars.  2-5. — 
Must  our  impression  of  the  hero,  or  the  heroine,  always  be 
favorable?  To  what  extent  may  it  be  unpleasant  at  the  begin- 
ning? Must  this  impression  be  changed  before  the  end,  or  can 
it  sometimes  be  continued  to  the  end?  What  is  the  ease  in  the 
present  story? 

2.  Since  Helene  and  Allison  must  be  unknown  to  each  other  in 
their  better  character,  this  ignorance  has  to  be  motivated.  Does 
the  device  by  which  this  is  accomplished  with  reference  to  Allison 

510 


The  Opal  Morning  511 

ment  and  incredulity  of  his  friends  should  they  ever  learn 
the  author's  identity.  Frequently  the  notices  featured  a 
portrait,  purporting  to  be  that  of  the  mythical  Allyne. 
Allison  had  taken  great  pains  to  secure  a  presentment  that 
satisfied  his  notion  of  what  the  writer  of  the  Arcadian 
songs  ought  to  look  like.  A  famous  artist  who  had  been 
intrusted  with  the  secret,  had  supj^lied  the  ideal  head,  a 
profile  study  of  a  youthful,  delicate  face,  the  chin  a  trifle 
long,  deep-set  eyes,  an  expression  at  once  thoughtful  and 
challenging;  a  mass  of  waving,  intensely  black  hair;  clear, 
firm  lines  of  throat  and  jaw,  with  a  suggestion  of  tense 
words — a  type  of  dreamer  to  make  others  dream ;  the  face 
of  a  saint  and  a  lover ;  a  young  St.  John,  yet  very  much 
of  earth — in  short,  the  perfect  poet. 

3.  Allison  glanced  at  his  reflection  in  the  long  mirror 
let  into  the  hanging-closet  door,  and  decided  that  in  him, 
Allyne  had  an  excellent  alibi — tall,  lean,  Mephistophelian 
of  countenance,  with  heavily  lined  skin,  and  eyes  that  had 
burned  themselves  deep  under  their  brows ;  mobile,  search- 
ing lips,  at  once  weary  and  desirous ;  an  old-young  face,  at 
once  predatory  and  generous.  He  sighed.  There  were 
times  when  he  disliked  his  type. 

4.  He  turned  again  to  the  criticisms.  They  were  not 
criticisms,  they  were  lauds.  Not  one  but  praised,  not  a 
dissonant   note   in   the   chorus   of    adulation.      "  A   new 


contribute  to  suspense  ("interest")  ?  Is  mystery,  even  of  a  mild 
sort,  a  stimulus  to  curiosity?  S.  S.  M.,  126:7,  134:20-21.  Is 
the  present  device  plausible?  S.  S.  M.,  90 :  9-11,  92 :  14.  Is  it  as 
plausible  as  the  device  by  which  Helene  concealed  her  identity 
(par.  69)  ? — Why  should  Allison's  device  be  explained  at  the 
first  of  the  narrative,  and  Helene's  left  unexplained  until  so 
near  its  close? 


512  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

voice,"  "  an  inspired  touch,"  ^'  the  clear  flame  of  genius." 
Even  "  the  dean  "  allowed  "  undoubted  promise." 

5.  His  curiosity  and  his  vanity  satisfied,  Allison  thrust 
the  bulginc;  envelope  into  the  companionship  of  at  least 
a  dozen  more,  and  turned  to  the  rest  of  his  mail.  Smart 
little  notes  of  feminine  form  and  savor,  square  business 
communications,  lordly  announcements  of  exclusive  haber- 
dashers and  hatters,  strong  paper  oblongs  from  bankers 
and  brokers,  and  a  package  from  his  publishers.  Again 
with  amused  tolerance  Allison  permitted  his  authorial  self 
to  seize  upon  that  missive  to  the  neglect  of  more  impor- 
tant matters.  A  short,  typewritten,  congratulatory  note, 
and  an  inclosure  of  letters,  addressed  to  Forrest  Allyne — 
an  editor  asking  that  he  submit  something ;  a  word  of  per- 
sonal appreciation  from  a  fellow  poet,  a  lady  who  patron- 
ized the  arts  and  "  would  be  pleased  to  see  him  at  her 
reception  on  the  fifth." 

6.  Then  his  eye  caught  a  cheap  envelope,  addressed  in 
a  rather  unformed  but  individual  hand.   He  paused.    This 


6-8.  Does  what  is  here  introduced  amount  to  exciting  moment 
(S.  S.  M.,  85:1-3),  or  is  it  merely  a  plot-detail  so  introduced  as 
to  stimulate  suspense?  Pars.  6-8  indicate  the  existence  of  a  sec- 
ond person,  not  yet  introduced,  toward  whom  the  first  person 
will  sustain  some  relationship,  though  of  what  sort  does  not  yet 
appear.  Is  this  enough  to  constitute  a  "  comiDlieation  "?  Or  may 
a  story  have  two  parallel  complications,  the  inner  conflict  being 
revealed  by  an  outer  body  of  incident,  so  that  the  carrying  plot 
is  objective,  whereas  the  really  significant  struggle  is  subjective 
(in  this  story,  spiritual)?  How  was  it  in  "An  Epilogue"? 
"  The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle  "?  "  Tropics  "?  If  the  carrying  plot 
can  be  merely  such  a  series  of  external  fact  as  is  necessary  to 
present  the  spiritual  conflict,  need  it  be  explicitly  complete? 
For  instance,  has  this  story  any  explicit  point  of  generating 
circumstance,  or  exciting  moment,  in  its  carrying  plot?  None  is 
presented  directly.     Had  it  been,  we  should  have  an  account  of 


The  Opal  Mokning  513 

would  be — her  tenth  letter.  He  had  grown  to  have  a  real 
feeling  for  his  unknown  little  country-girl  correspondent. 
As  he  slit  the  flap  and  withdrew  the  inclosure  an  un- 
mounted photograph  fluttered  to  the  desk.  A  girl's  face 
looked  up  at  him,  a  girl  in  a  sunbonnet,  her  features  in 
shadow.  His  first  impression  was  a  shock  of  acute  wonder. 
How  in  the  world  could  such  a  beautiful  creature  be  kept 
in  domestic  subjection  on  a  farm  ?  That  kind  always  made 
their  escape  somehow.  She  certainly  must  see  the  news- 
papers and  the  Sunday  supplements.  She  must  know  that 
she  compared  more  than  favorably  with  many  a  profes- 
sional beauty,  and  she  was  the  isolated  little  soul  whose 
letters  breathed  loneliness  as  persistently  as  a  garden  pink 
sends  out  its  heart  in  pungent,  unmistakable  fragrance ! 

7.  The  portrait  showed  just  a  head  and  shoulders.  The 
background  a  flaking  of  sun-patched  lilac  leaves.  Her 
dress  was  a  striped  gingham,  open  at  the  throat — not  even 
a  brooch.  The  one  hand  that  was  raised  to  straighten  the 
bonnet  was  ringless. 

8.  He  stared,  fascinated ;  then,  opening  a  drawer  drew 
out  a  packet — the  other  nine  letters.  In  the  light  of  her 
sudden  visualization  he  was  minded  to  glance  at  them 
again.  He  freed  the  first  one  from  the  rubber  band. 
Strange    that    of   all    the    correspondence    his    work   had 


the  moment  when  Helene,  moved  by  Allison's  poetry,  wrote  the 
first  letter.  But  instead  of  this,  the  generating  circumstance  and 
exciting  moment  are  merely  suggested  by  the  letter  itself  and 
such  references  as  grow  out  of  its  introduction. — Note  the  pro- 
vision for  later  surprise  and  contrast  effect  in  the  comment  that 
closes  par.  6. — '  What  purpose  does  this  sentence  serve  in  the 
working  the  effect  of  the  story  as  a  whole?  Is  it  a  hint  or 
forecast,  or  an  emphasizer  of  an  impression  we  have  already 
received?     Would  it  be  better  omitted? 


514  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

evoked,  he  had  kept  only  her  letters/  After  all,  what  were 
they  ?  A  sheaf  of  childish  impressions,  very  direct,  for 
she  looked  with  her  own  eyes  and  described  what  she  saw — 
but  why  ?  lie  recalled  how,  acting  on  an  idle  impulse,  he 
had  tossed  that  first  shamefaced  little  note  into  the  drawer. 
He  read  it  now  with  her  picture  propped  before  him.  He 
wanted  to  associate  her  likeness  with  his  first  impression 
of  her.     The  new  communication  could  wait  its  turn. 

9.  "  I  thank  you  so  for  your  book,"  he  read.  "  I've 
always  loved  nature,  and  it's  lucky  I  do,  for  I'm  marooned 
in  the  middle  of  an  awful  lot  of  it.  But  you've  said  things 
in  such  a  way  that  you've  doubled  my  pleasure,  you've 
helped  me  fill  my  days  with  enjoyment  of  the  out-of-doors. 
Best  of  all  the  poems  I  like  '  The  Opal  Morning,'  and  I 
see  so  many  dawns,  it  has  helped  me  not  to  yawn.  Some 
mornings  are  opal,  aren't  they  ?  And  some,  in  early 
spring,  are  like  moonstones,  so  clear  and  yet  so  milky — 
limpid  mornings.  Do  you  know  that  strange,  thick, 
sticky  dark  red  that  lies  in  the  East  before  sun-up  in  the 
autumn  ?  I  never  see  it  but  it  gives  me  the  shivers.  It's 
ghostly.  I  wonder  how  you'd  describe  it.  To  me  it  looks 
like  nothing  so  much  as  sinister,  poisonous,  smeary  jam. 


9-16.  At  this  point  make  a  careful  Hst  of  the  character  qualities 
of  "  Me,"  based  entirely  on  her  letters.  After  completing  your 
study  of  the  story,  take  this  list  and  determine  wherein,  if  at 
all,  it  needs  revising  to  make  it  represent  the  essential  truth 
about  her  character.  In  her  moods  is  she  a  ci'eature  "  of  infinite 
variety"?  Does  this  agree  with  the  revelation  of  her  tastes  and 
profession  in  par.  94?  Review  now  S.  S.  M.,  214: 1-5. — Pick  out 
all  in  the  letters  that  suggests  a  fundamental  sympathy  in  ideals 
and  tastes  between  Allison  and  Helene;  does  the  story  as  a  whole 
show  that  this  fundamental  sympathy  existed?    List  its  elements. 


The  Opal  Morning  515 

Gray,  dun-colored  daybreaks  I  hate.  They  make  every- 
thing and  everybody  look  as  if  they  ought  never  to  have 
lived  at  all. 

10.  "  You  see  how  I  ramble  on.  You'll  forgive  me, 
won't  you  ?  You  don't  have  to  read  me.  And  I'm  so  lonely 
it  gives  me  pleasure  to  write  to  you  and  tell  you  how  really 
much  your  poems  matter  to  me.  I'll  give  this  to  the  man 
who  goes  in  with  our  milk  cans  to  the  station.  Some  one 
of  the  train  men  will  take  it  in  and  post  it  in  New  York. 
I'd  rather  you  didn't  know  the  ugly  name  of  my  town. 
Perhaps  I  shall  write  you  again.  You'll  know  my  hand- 
writing and  throw  it  in  the  scrap-basket.  But  if  you 
could  guess  how  starved  for  companionship  I  am,  you 
might  forgive  me  for  being  a  silly  fool.  Good-by.  Thank 
you  for  letting  me  talk  to  you.     "  Just — Me." 

11.  Allison  smiled  and  turned  back  to  the  first  page. 
"  Marooned  in  the  middle  of  an  awful  lot  of  nature."  He 
chuckled  as  he  took  up  the  jDhotograph  and  looked  at  it 
long.     Then  he  spread  the  tenth  letter  before  him. 

12.  "Dear  You: 

"  You  see  I'm  being  even  sillier  than  ever.  I'm  send- 
ing you  a  kodak  taken  last  year — as  if  you  cared !  By 
this  time  I  imagine  you'll  run  when  you  see  me  coming. 
But  it  doesn't  matter.  I  shall  tell  myself  that  you  are 
delighted ;  that  you  put  me  in  a  silver  frame  and  keep 


12.  '  Cf.  par.  3  and  72-78,  especially  76  and  78.  Note  the  effect 
of  pathos  worked  by  means  of  these  far-separated  passages. 
They  afford  an  illustration  of  the  necessity  for  realizing  the  story 
in  its  entirety  before  writing.  The  same  is  true  of  the  passage 
(1)  at  the  close  of  par,  8. — "  Is  this  a  touch  of  feminine  human- 
nature,  or  an  indication  that  she  is  deeply  interested  in  him?  Or 
is  it  both? 


516  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

1110  on  your  desk.  That's  what  I've  done  with  you,  and 
I  hope  you  feel  flattered.  I  found  a  picture  of  you  in 
a  paper,  and  cut  it  out.  I  bought  the  frame  at  a  rum- 
mage sale  at  the  M.  E.  Church.  It's  hideous,  but  it 
just  fits.  I  have  to  keep  it  hidden.  They'd  think  I'd 
gone  crazy  if  they  saw  it — they'd  be  quite  right,  too. 
But  I  want  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  you  look  the 
way  you  do.^  Why,  you're  beautiful !  You  couldn't 
help  writing  as  you  do,  when  you  are  like  that.  I  never 
get  tired  of  looking  at  you,  and  I  don't  believe  you  are 
spoiled  a  bit.  Do  crowds  of  other  girls  write  to  you  as 
I  do  ? "  I  wonder.  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  '  The  Opal 
Morning '  is  folded  in  back  of  your  picture.  No,  I 
didn't  tear  it  out  of  the  book.  I  got  that,  too,  from  a 
reprint  in  one  of  the  reviews.  Oh,  no,  the  book  should 
never  be  hurt  like  that.  I'm  amazed  at  you  for  think- 
ing I'd  do  such  a  thing.  Why,  it's  so  alive,  I  was  afraid 
to  cut  the  pages  I  adore,  I  was  sure  they'd  bleed. 

13.  "  '  Sky  Island  ' — that  was  in  one  of  the  maga- 
zines last  month,  but  I  saw  it  only  yesterday.  I  have 
little  time  to  read.  I'm  so  tired  at  the  end  of  my  work 
that  I  could  cry.  What  made  you  write  '  The  Steed 
with  Wings  '  ?  It  doesn't  seem  like  you.  I  tried  to 
imagine  our  old  Jerry  with  those  ^  pinions  of  light  and 
of  fire,  flashing  in  infinite  space. '  I'm  perfectly  certain 
he'd  find  some  way  to  kick  with  them — forgive  me,  I'm 
bluer  than  ever  today.  Do  you  have  to  be  with  people 
you  dislike,  all  the  time,  I  wonder  ?  Do  you  have  to 
keep  friends  with  people  who  rub  you  all  wrong  ?  I 
have  to.  My  soul  is  sand-papered  till  it's  raw.  But  one 
has  to  go  on  living,  you  know,  and  one  has  to  be  worth 
one's  salt — and  the  cost  of  living  is  going  up  1     One  has 


I 


The  Opal  Morning  517 

to  work  hard.  I  wish  I  had  a  river  here.  I  used  to  live 
near  one.  I  loved  particularly  the  eddies  that  always 
looked  as  if  they  were  humped  above  some  creature 
underneath  that  was  just  about  to  force  through  and 
show  itself.  Here  there's  a  pool — oh,  yes,  and  a  cas- 
cade, a  rockery^a  horrid  stilted  made  thing.  I've 
grown  to  hate  its  pour,  pour,  pour,  always  just  the  same 
amount  of  water  falling  down  the  same  number  of 
stairs.  .    .    . 

14.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  be  so  complaining.  My  last 
letter  was  cheerfuller,  wasn't  it  ?  So — please — for- 
give   "  Me." 

15.    Allison  found  the  "  cheerfuller  "  letter  and  turned 
to  the  last  page. 

16.  "  I've  been  full  of  irresponsible  gayety.  I  don't 
know  why.  I  laugh  for  laughing's  sake.  I  dance  and 
dance  and  enjoy  it  just  for  dancing,  and  I  let  myself 
out  when  I  sing,  just  for  the  '  push  '  of  it.  I'm  just  hav- 
ing a  puppy  fit,  I  guess.  .  .  .  My,  how  they  run  and 
roll — or  a  kitten  scooting  wildly  about  and  doing 
strange  things.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why.  I've  got 
no  particular  reason  to  be  bubbling.  But  gayety  turns 
to  you,  too.  You  see,  it  isn't  just  in  my  blues  and 
sobers  that  I  love  your  songs.  You  seem  to  have  that 
in  you,  too,  that  just-can't-help-it  laughter.  It's  there  in 
'  Pan's  Hoofprint,'  and  in  '  The  Little  Masque,'  in- 
'  The  Slipped  Tether,'  and  '  Truant  Love.'  So  just  be- 
cause I  feel  so  irresponsible — I  want  to  write  to  you. 
So  if  you've  ever  forgiven  me  at  all — forgive  me  now 
for  giggling — I  can't  help  it — it's  just  "  Ms^" 


518  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

17.  lie  slipped  the  letters  back  into  their  receptacle 
and  tossed  the  picture  on  top  of  them.  Then  he  smiled. 
She  "  had  told  herself  that  he  would  put  her  picture 
in  a  silver  frame  and  keep  it  ever  before  him."  Well, 
just  for  the  whim  of  it,  he'd  give  her  reason.  With- 
out compunction  he  removed  the  presentment  of  a  very 
beautiful  lady  from  an  oval  of  gold,  thrust  into  the  inap- 
propriately gorgeous  surrounding  the  face  of  the  girl  in 
a  gingham  sunbonnet,  and  ceremoniously  placed  it,  the 
center  ornament  of  his  work-table.  Allison  shook  himself. 
He  had  pandered  to  his  ridiculous,  chuckle-headed  lyric 
self  long  enough,^ 

18.  The  telephone  rang  sharply,  and  it  was  his  other 
personality  that  answered. 

19.  "  Oh,  hello,  old  man !  Why,  yes,  I  will.  I've  a 
dinner  and  theatre — but  I'll  meet  you  afterwards.  That's 
a  go,  then.  Matt's  here  ?  Good — we'll  show  him  about 
a  bit — five  years,  is  it  ?  Well,  so-long.  I've  got  a  busy 
day." 

20.  The  long  room  was  filled  with  smoke,  that  toned 
down  its  garish  coloring — raw  reds  and  yellows  panelled 


17.  To  what  extent  does  this  paragraph  advance  the  story 
toward  its  outcome?  To  what  extent  is  it  a  forecast  (S.  S.  M., 
250)  ? — '  A  reminder  of  the  two-part  personality  of  each  of  the 
two  principals,  out  of  which  so  much  of  the  struggle  springs;  ef. 
introd.  note  2. — Observe  the  handling  of  the  transition  back  to 
the  immediate  plot-progress. 

19.  Note  the  motivation  of  the  cabaret,  and  consequently  of  the 
apartment,  episode.  Only  a  few  words  are  needed.  Unskillful 
writers  often  spend  wearisome  effort  in  unnecessary  motivating. 

20.  Here  the  second  stage  of  the  story  becomes  active,  follow- 
ing its  introduction  in  pars.  18-19.  Pars.  1-19,  the  first  stage, 
afford  an  excellent  illustration  of  an  expositional  opening  division 


The  Opal  Morning  519 

with  black  and  gold.  At  the  far  end,  on  a  raised  platform, 
a  band  of  musicians  were  giving  voice  to  a  hula-hula, 
while  a  girl,  with  brown  stained  body  and  a  Broadway 
version  of  a  grass  skirt,  swung  lithe  hips  and  agile  fingers 
to  a  haunting  rhythm.  The  right-hand  partition  was  set 
with  mirrors,  a  fountain  splashed  down  four  steps  of  il- 
luminated glass  and  watered  a  basin,^  edged  with  artificial 
roses.  Against  the  walls  tables  were  wedged,  tables 
crowded  by  typical  all-night  rounders,  noisily  enjoying 
themselves.  There  were  four  men  and  three  girls  in  Al- 
lison's party — Bangs,  Van  Nard  and  Bill  Matt.  The 
girls  were  performers — Irene  and  Helene,  professional 
dancers,  and  Vili  Nadi,  late  of  Budapest,  and  deriving 
therefrom  her  pet  name,  "  The  little  pest."  Champagne 
stood  in  their  glasses ;  champagne  bottles  arrogantly  dis- 
played on  an  adjoining  empty  table  advertised  that  the 
crowd  were  "  no  pikers." 

21.  Allison  leaned  back  and  watched  the  writhing  hula 
girl.  It  was  half-past  two  in  the  morning,  and  he  was 
bored  and  tired.  He  was  host,  however,  at  this  tag  end 
of  a  misspent  evening,  and  Bill  Matt  had  been  five  years 
away  from  the  big  town  and  was  in  no  mood  to  go  home. 
He  was  frankly  having  the  time  of  his  life,  devouring  the 
diminutive  Hungarian  chanteuse  with  his  eyes,  and  roar- 
ing with  laughter  at  the  broken  English  of  her  sallies. 
Bangs,  between  the  two  dancers,  divided  his  somewhat 


(S.  S.  M.,  74-85).  List  all  the  important  things  accomplished  by 
the  exposition  up  to  par.  20. — '  Is  the  mention  of  the  fountain 
inconspicuous  enough  not  to  be  a  give-away  (cf.  par.  13)? — An 
atmosphere  strongly  in  contrast  with  that  which  we  sense  in  the 
first  stage  is  presented.  Did  the  opening  stage  strike  the  keynote 
( S.  S.  M.,  127 :  10-11  ?  Review  also  124 :  5-9 ) . 
21.   Are  sentences  1-2  consistent  with  Allison's  character? 


520  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

befuddled  attentions,  while  Van  Nard  found  his  fate  in 
his  bubbling  glass, 

22.  "  Why  don't  you  take  up  this  Island  stuff, 
Helene?"  Allison  heard  Bangs  inquire  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  You  could  knock  that  girl  silly,  and  she's  the  big 
number." 

23.  Helene  shrugged  slim  shoulders  and  glanced  do\\Ti 
at  her  costume — a  daring  combination  of  rose-wreaths  and 
tiger-skin. 

24.  "  Don't  care  to,"  she  answered  laconically. 

25.  She  lifted  her  glass  to  her  lips  and  pretended  to 
drink.  He  noticed  that  her  drinking  was  largely  pretense. 
Irene  laughed. 

26.  "  Helene's  got  her  line  and  she  sticks  to  it.  Guess 
she's  right,  at  that.  Isn't  she  known  all  over  the  shop  as 
'  Miss  Three  Weeks  '  and  '  The  Girl  in  the  Tiger-Skin  '  ? 
Some  class  to  that — Avhat  ?  " 

27.  Van  I^ard  roused  himself  from  the  contemplation 
of  his  wine.  "  That's  a  good  stunt,  Helene — that  finale, 
stripping  out  of  your  pelt  and  making  a  doormat  of  it — 
must  say,  it  gives  me  a  start  every  time." 

28.  "  That's  why  I  do  it,"  she  observed  calmly.  "  I 
pull  down  enough  coin  for  that  skin  stunt  to  keep  me  going 
quite  comfortably,  thank  you." 

29.  Irene  nodded,  not  without  envy.     "  She  does  that 


22.  Introduces  the  second  principal.  Does  it  direct  attention  to 
her  with  sufficient  emphasis'?  Would  anything  be  gained  by 
more  emphatic  indication  of  her  part,  or  is  it  better  at  this  point 
to  pass  over  her  importance,  lest  we  betray  too  soon  her  identity, 
losing  the  effect  of  pars.  61-62? 

25.    Is  this  detail  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  her  character? 

29-30.  See  also  pars.  31-45.  What  are  the  limitations  upon  out- 
rightness  in  realism  in  dialogue,  description,  and  incident,  in  por- 


The  Opal  Morning  521 

— and  then  what?  Why,  she  fools  'em.  There's  no  show 
at  all — nice  little  modest  nighty  just  unrolls  with  it — 
and  all  over." 

30.  "  And  not  all  off— hey  ?  "  Matt  laughed  at  his  bril- 
liant repartee.  "  But  say — can't  we  go  on  ?  I'm  tired  of 
this.  Can't  you  girls  beat  it? — and  we'll  try  breakfast 
up  the  road  somewhere." 

31.  Van  straightened  in  his  chair  with  a  jerk.  "  Why 
didn't  I  think  of  it  before  ? "  he  exclaimed.  "  Helene, 
have  you  still  got  that  roulette-wheel  in  your  apartment  ?  " 

32.  She  nodded. 

33.  "  Say,  fellows,"  he  continued,  "  let's  go  up  to 
Helene's  and  have  a  spin  or  two.  She's  got  a  nice  place, 
and  her  Jap  can  trim  us  some  eggs.  I'll  set  up  the  drinks. 
Come  on,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

34.  The  host  started  a  feeble  protest,  but  Matt's  de- 
lighted acceptance  overruled  him.  Besides,  he  had  a  curi- 
osity to  see  the  end  of  the  game — evidently  a  crooked  one 
— and  Bill  might  need  looking  after. 

35.  "  Oh,  good  !  "  cried  Irene,  rising.  "  I'll  go  and 
see  the  Boss — he'll  be  all  right.  We  don't  need  to  dance 
again  tonight.      That'll  be  a  lark,   all  right."      She  ran 


trayiug'  the  vulgar  or  offensive?  Is  there  a  difference  of  hmit 
when  the  thing  is  portrayed  as  a  necessary  element  in  a  larger  con- 
ception or  presentation  of  life,  and  when  it  is  itself  the  purpose 
of  the  portrayal?  Is  art  ever  hampered  or  thwarted  by  the 
squeamishness  that  objects  to  realism  in  presenting  such  aspects 
of  life?  Is  reticence  on  such  aspects  wise,  or  is  it  imposed  by 
false  standards  of  opinion,  which  thus  hinder  the  interpretation 
of  life  in  certain  of  its  common  and  vitally  important  charac- 
teristics? What  can  writers  and  students  do  to  create  more 
liberal  and  wholesome  standards? 

31-34.    Cf.  note  on  par.  19. 

35-43.    These  paragraphs  do  not  advance  the  action.    Are  they 


522  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

lightly   (Idwii   the  room,   and,   eagerly  as  a  child,   button- 
holed the  tall  saturnine  proprietor. 

36.  "  Roulette."  The  Pest  spoke  up  with  a  great  roll- 
ing of  eyes  and  R's.  '"  Excellent.  I  loof  it.  You  shall 
help  me,  you  nice  mans — be  my — what  you  call — 
Mashcote." 

37.  "Mash  coat!  Oh,  Lord,  oh  Lord!  you'll  be  the 
death  of  me !  "  Matt  roared.  "  Sure,  little  one,  I  will  be 
your  mascot." 

38.  "Ah,"  she  cried  delightedly.  "  '  Mascotte !  '  lake 
zat — the  same  as  French — Oh,  verrce  well !  " 

39.  Allison  looked  at  Helene.  She  seemed  neither  glad 
nor  sorry,  more  as  if  she  considered  it  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. He  liked  her  make-up,  he  decided ;  it  was  intelli- 
gent. She  was  heavily  but  smoothly  powdered,  her  great 
eyes,  elongated  in  straight  pencil  lines,  added  something 
enigmatic  to  her  level  gaze.  Her  mouth,  with  large,  well- 
formed  lips,  was  darkly,  almost  blackly  red,  more  sinister 
than  vampire  scarlet  and  more  secretly  alluring.  He  won- 
dered how  old  she  might  be.  One  could  never  tell  with 
these  strange  women.  But  however  young,  she  was  most 
thoroughly  experienced. 

40.  Irene  came  skipping  and  sliding  with  graceful 
dancing  steps  over  the  polished  floor. 

41.  "  Come  on,  boys,"  she  called.  "  It's  all  right.  I 
told  William  to  scare  us  up  a  taxi  at  the  corner." 

42.  Van  rose.  "  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute.  I'm 
going  to  speak  to   Sweeney.     How  many  quarts  do  we 


to  be  classified  as  intensifying  matter  (S.  S.  M.,  107-115)  ?  What 
element  predominates — character  or  atmosphere  in  amplifying 
realistic  detail?  Would  the  total  effect  of  the  story  be  more  or 
less  satisfying  (conclusive)  if  these  paragraphs  were  omitted? 


The  Opal  Morning  523 

want — half  a  dozen  ?  That'll  hold  us  for  a  while.  Have 
you  got  anything  for  breakfast,  Helene,  or  shall  I  forage 
in  the  ice-box  here  ?  " 

43.  "  Oh,  Saku  always  has  eggs  and  bacon  and  little 
sausages,"  Helene  answered  indifferently.  "  It's  a  stand- 
ing order,     I'm  ready  if  you  are." 

44.  The  party  bundled  uncomfortably  into  one  cab, 
were  jolted  and  bounced  down  the  sijde  street,  up  the  Great 
White  Way,  now  fast  fading  into  grayness,  and  turned 
west  again  in  the  upper  Forties. 

45.  Allison  cursed  under  his  breath  and  called  himself 
a  fool,  not  only  for  this  stupid  round  of  would-be  gayety 
but  for  having  dismissed  his  own  motor  car.  He  was 
cramped  and  uncomfortable.  Irene,  voluble  and  wriggling, 
sat  in  his  lap,  clutching  at  his  coat-collar  whenever  the 
cab  jolted  unduly.  Helene  sat  next  him  with  the  little 
Hungarian  on  her  knees.  It  was  all  sordid,  old  stuff.  The 
girls  smelled  of  cheap  perfume  and  scented  face-powder. 
The  atmosphere  reeked  of  the  sour  smell  of  wine,  the  acrid 
odor  of  stale  tobacco  smoke — bah ! 

46.  Before  a  tall  apartment-house  the  taxi  came  to  a 
stop.  Stiffly  they  disentangled  themselves  and  their 
wraps,  and  were  conveyed  up  in  the  elevator  by  a  bleary- 
eyed  negro  boy.     Helene  preceded  them  down  a  short  cor- 


45.  Is  Allison's  feeling  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  his 
character  as  revealed  in  the  expositional  opening?  Show  how 
such  a  reversal  of  his  feeling  without  a  different  outcome  (so 
far  as  he  is  concerned)  would  be  made  necessary.  Cf.  S.  S.  M., 
91: 13,  102:  22,  for  sidelights.     See  introd.  n.  2,  parenthesis. 

46.  Explain  why  Helene's  room  "  fights  with  itself,"  having 
things  that  represent  opposed  tastes  and  ideals.  Is  this  a  means 
by  which  the  author  reminds  us  again  of  the  basic  spiritual 
struggle  (introd.  n.  2)  ? 


524  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ridor,  opened  a  door  with  her  latch-key,  and  turned  on  the 
switch.  A  step  or  two  to  a  portiere  and  she  ushered  her 
guests  into  a  living-room.  A  long  table  was  piled  with 
books,  a  center  lamp  of  Chinese  bronze,  deep-seated  com- 
fortable chairs,  flowers  everywhere.  On  the  walls  a  few 
framed  photographs  of  musical  celebrities,  mostly  signed ; 
several  studies  by  well-known  artists;  a  framed  caricature 
by  Caran  d' Arche ;  Steinlen's  Pierrot  poster.  These  were 
the  dissonant  notes.  A  conventional  cosy  corner  with  red 
lights,  cushions,  and  tabourette,  bearing  cigarettes ;  red- 
plush  curtains;  a  cellarette;  a  dog  basket,  at  present  un- 
tenanted ;  a  divan ;  a  decorated  tea-wagon,  loaded  with  an 
ample  cocktail  set.  These  things  were  more  in  keeping 
with  the  place  and  the  hostess. 

47.  Van,  with  an  air  of  boastful  ownership,  set  out  the 
champagne  bottles  and  called  for  Saku  in  a  bellowing  roar. 
The  girls  made  themselves  comfortable,  while  Helene, 
from  the  bottom  of  the  cabinet,  took  out  the  roulette-wheel 
and  the  long,  green  painted  cloth  that  marked  the  num4 
bers.  She  cleared  the  table  and  set  the  layout.  Her  face 
remained  expressionless,  her  welcome  a  mere  matter  of 
business  as  stereotyped  as  her  smile.  A  white-clad  Japa; 
nese  appeared  presently,  noted  the  number  of  the  guests; 
nodded  approval,  and,  without  asking  or  receiving  instruc- 
tions, retired  to  the  kitchenette.  Evidently  such  break- 
fast parties  were  the  regular  order  of  things. 

48.  The  company  gathered  quickly  about  the  wheel. 
Van  poured  the  champagne  and  joined  the  others,  his  face 
paling  a  little  and  his  eyes  narrowing.  The  click  of  the 
ball  always  had  the  effect  of  a  pull  at  his  heart,  a  tensing 


48-51.    Cf.  n.,  pars.  35-43. 


The  Opal  Morning  525 

of  his  gambler's  nerves.     Bangs  hauled  out  his  available 
change  and  rumpled  a  roll  of  bills. 

49.  The  girls  ostentatiously  jingled  gilt  mesh-purses 
and  talked  in  strained,  high  voices  as  they  drew  up  chairs 
and  performed  various  rites  ''  for  luck."  Helene  joined 
them ;  lost,  won  again,  excused  herself  and  rose.  Van 
would  bank. 

50.  In  spite  of  his  weariness  and  disgust  Allison 
watched  her.  She  intrigued  him.  What  was  she?  Was 
the  game  crooked  ?  Was  she  herself  as  remote  as  she 
seemed  ?  Was  she  somebody's  tool,  or  somebody's  victim  ? 
Was  the  game  her  own  venture,  or  was  Sweeney  back  of 
it  ?  Where  did  Van  come  in  ?  He  took  a  hand,  and  pres- 
ently the  fascination  of  the  game  of  chance  seized  his  at- 
tention. 

51.  The  clean-up  was  certainly  in  favor  of  the  house 
with  a  vengeance.  Back  of  them  Helene  hovered.  In  the 
dining-room  the  noise  of  dishes  and  silver  indicated  the 
activities  of  Saku.  More  champagne.  The  ball  clicked 
faster.  Somewhere  a  clock  rang  four.  Helene  had  dis- 
posed herself  on  the  divan  in  the  embrasure  of  the  win- 
dow, saying  nothing,  seemingly  oblivious  of  the  others."  ^ 

52.  Allison  rose  and  stretched.  "  I've  got  enough,"  he 
said.     "  When's  that  Jap  going  to  announce  tiffin  ?  " 

53.  "  Half-past  four,  I  told  him,"  Helene  answered. 

54.  He  looked  at  her.  She  certainly  was  handsome — 
more  than  that — there  was  latent  power  in  her,  in  her  face, 


50.  Observe  the  manner  of  its  introduction,  and  its  effect  in 
keeping  our  attention  on  Helene. 

51.  *  A  touch  that  reminds  us  of  the  lonesomeness  her  letters 
disclosed.  The  next  few  paragraphs  prepare  the  way  for  the 
climactic  height  and  telescoped  outcome  and  ending. 

54.    Cf.  n.,  pars.  29-30,  35-43,  48-51. 


526  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

in  her  relaxed  figure,  in  the  even,  low-pitched  quality  of 
her  indifferent  voice.  Allison  looked  from  her  to  the 
others  at  the  table.  "  The  little  pest  "  was  lolling  over 
Bangs  and  rumpling  his  hair  with  her  beringed  hands. 
Irene  had  degenerated  to  the  gutter  from  which  she  had 
risen  on  her  winged  feet.  Allison  was  not  proud  of  his 
own  friends.  It  w'as  an  ugly  sight,  these  men  and  women, 
seeking  excitement.  He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  cigarette- 
case,  and  found  it  empty. 

55.  "  Over  there."  Helene  pointed  to  the  tabourette. 
"  No,  wait.  I've  got  some  I  think  you  might  like  better 
— if  you  care  for  Cubans.  In  the  red  painted  box  on  the 
writing-desk." 

56.  Allison  nodded,  crossed  the  room  and  jerked  the 
cord  on  a  jeweled  desk  light,  that  brought  into  sharp 
prominence  every  feature  of  the  gaudy,  gilt  escritoire. 
Then  he  stood  still,  his  hands  suspended  above  the  gayly 
painted  Dutch  cofferette.     His  eyes,  wide  with  surprise, 


56.  Third  and  last  movement  begins.  Note  that  movement,  or 
act,  two  has  two  scenes,  or  stage-sets,  the  cabaret  and  the  apart- 
ment. Act  three  has  the  same  set  as  scene  two  of  movement  two. 
Further  exempHfying  the  dramatic  structure  of  this  and  of  the 
typical  short  story,  note  the  exit  carefully  prepared  for  the  minor 
persons ;  so  that  the  acme  of  the  "  big  scene  "  is  played  by  the 
two  principals  alone  on  the  stage.  S.  S.  M.,  71 : 1,  and  71-121 
passim. 

56-61.  Account  for  the  nervousness  and  fencing  of  the  two  at 
this  point.  How  is  it  indicated?  Is  the  fact  true  to  psychology? 
To  their  respective  characters  and  the  situation  which  has  now 
been  developed  by  the  working  out  of  the  basic  conception? — 
Does  the  tensening  of  interest  and  the  speeding  up  of  the  action 
represent  good  dramatic  management  ?  Why  should  the  "  big 
scene  "  take  less  time,  or  be  compressed  into  shorter  space,  than 
the  other  stages  of  the  story? 


The  Opal  Mokning  527 

were  fixed  upon  a  portrait  of  Forrest  Allyne  in  a  silver 
frame — Forrest  Allyne  in  this  cabaret  dancer's  flat ! 
Could  she,  "  The  Girl  of  the  Tiger-Skin  "— ''  Miss  Three 
Weeks  " — have  read  "  I,  Too,  Have  Been  in  Arcady  ?  " 
Did  she  know  those  songs  of  simple  things — those  frail 
imaginings?  or  had  she  been  attracted  by  some  twist  of 
natural  animalism  to  the  face  of  that  passionate  youth  ? 

57.  "  Ah !  "  he  said  aloud.  "  Good-looking  chap. 
Who's  your  friend,  Helene  ?  "    He  picked  up  the  picture. 

58.  "  That  ?  "  Her  voice  crossed  the  hubbub  of  the 
room  as  if  traveling  in  an  element  of  its  own,  not  loud,  but 
curiously  distinct.  "  That's  a  boy  I  used  to  know.  He's 
taken  to  writing  lately ;  sent  me  a  volume  of  his  stuff  the 
other  day — sort  of  Kid  flirtation,  you  know." 

59.  Allison  chuckled.  "  Not  your  style,  I  should  say. 
Shouldn't  think  you'd  take  much  stock  in  him.  Have  you 
read  his  book  ?  " 

60.  She  rose  from  the  divan  nervously  and  joined  him. 
With  swift  fingers,  as  if  she  resented  his  possessive  grip, 
she  took  the  picture  from  his  hand.  A  fiush  showed 
faintly  under  her  whitened  skin. 

61.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  glanced  at  it.  It  isn't  the  sort  of  thing 
that  would  interest  you  at  all.  You'd  guy  it.  Where  are 
those  cigarettes?  Box  is  empty?  That's  Saku,  he  loves 
'em ;  I  can't  keep  one.  Just  the  same  I've  got  a  lot  hidden 
I  bet  he  didn't  find."  She  unlocked  the  escritoire,  and, 
pulling  out  a  drawer,  rummaged  in  its  secret  recesses. 
Over  her  white  shoulder  he  had  a  glimpse  of  the  tumbled 
interior  of  the  desk — its  pens  and  inks,  its  rumpled  bills, 
pink  note  bond,  a  bunch  of  rose-colored  gauze  samples,  and 
spread  out,  as  if  the  letter  bad  been  hastily  left  uncom- 
pleted, a  double  page  of  cheap  writing-paper,  half  covered 


528  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

with  the  ill-formed,   individual  handwriting  he  knew  so 
well. 

62.  "  Good  God !  "  he  gasped.  "  You're  not  '  Me/  are 
you  ?  " 

63.  Her  body  whipped  itself  erect  and  she  stood  star- 
ing at  him  open-mouthed,  her  black-red  lips  drawn  above 
her  glittering  teeth. 

64.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded.  Her  hand 
fell  with  a  quick  protective  gesture  on  the  unfinished  letter. 

65.  He  laughed  harshly.  "Lord!  what  a  joke!  You 
— you  the  girl  '  marooned  in  a  lot  of  scenery  ' !  You  the 
girl  who  has  her  letters  delivered  with  the  milk-cans.     ISTo 


62.  The  plot  of  this  eonte  has  some  of  the  elements  of  the 
ingenious-plot  and  the  surprise  story,  since  it  requires  hidden 
identity.  (Comparatively  few  plots  of  hidden  identity  introduce 
two  persons  whose  identity  is  concealed;  one  unrecognized  person 
usually  provides  the  author  a  sufficiently  difficult  task.  But  "  The 
Opal  Morning"  has  two.)  The  moment  when  the  true  identity  is 
disclosed  (S.  S.  M.,  89,  n.  7)  is  always  one  of  "  thrill."  So  it  is 
here.     Where  is  the  second  revelation  made? 

65-91.  Anticipatory  delay  (S.  S.  M.,  74,  n.  2,  93  :4).  (Note 
that  par.  62,  although  not  strictly  bringing  the  decisive  moment, 
clearly  indicates  its  approach;  hence  the  bickerings  that  follow, 
delaying  the  outcome,  are  fairly  to  be  classified  as  anticipatory 
delay.) 

What  keeps  these  pot-and-kettle  recriminations  from  falling 
quite  as  low  as  mere  bandied  contempt  and  insult — a  vulgar 
quarrel  of  cabaret  habitues  of  the  "sporting"  class?  Have  we 
here  the  culmination  and  crisis  of  the  spiritual  struggle  (introd. 
n.  2)  Is  the  motive,  or  cause,  of  the  recriminations  anything  \ 
more  than  vulgar  anger  and  pride?  » 

Obsei've  again  that,  being  in  part  a  surprise  (concealed  iden- 
tity) story,  this  eonte  postpones  an  essential  part  of  the  exposi- 
tion— the  identities  and  an  essential  fact  of  motive — for  disclo- 
sure near  its  end. 


The  Opal  Morning  529 

wonder  you're  an  authority  on  dawns!     Lord!     What  a 
farce !  " 

66.  "  Stop  laughing !  "  she  flamed.  "  Stop  it,  I  say ! 
I  won't  be  laughed  at,  and  it  isn't  a  laughing  matter.  So 
he's  a  ead,  too — like  all  the  rest !  Had  to  show  around  the 
little  country  girl's  letters,  did  he  ?  "  Her  hand  was  shak- 
ing as  she  crumpled  the  sheet  and  threw  it  into  the  scrap 
basket.  "  Well,  you  can  go  back  and  tell  him  just  what 
kind  of  a  little  backwoods  ingenue  wrote  'em — for  the  fun 
of  the  thing — to  make  a  jackass  of  a  poet  have  the  big 
head — just  to  make  the  man  with  that  silly  woman-face 
think  he'd  been  writing  something  real  with  his  twaddle !  " 

67.  Allison  hardly  listened  to  her.  Something  deep 
within  him  was  angrily  resenting  this  changeling  of  his 
dreams.  He  was  suddenly  furious  with  this  painted 
dancer  for  her  impersonation  of  that  other — as  if  some- 
how she  had  wronged  a  real  and  living  entity.  His  re- 
sentment burst  into  being. 

68.  "  Gad!  "  he  explained.  "  It  makes  me  sick !  What 
the  deuce  did  you  want  to  go  to  all  that  elaborate  trouble 
for?  What's  the  sense?  And  that  snapshot — a  lot  like 
you — gingham  and  pinafores  and  lilacs  and  sunbonnets, 
hey  ?    Of  all  the  stupid " 

69.  "  So  he  showed  you  that,  too,  did  he  ?  "  she  inter- 
rupted. "  Sweet  proposition,  he  is.  That  was  a  snapshot 
of  Lillie  Ling — a  movie  girl — I  happened  to  know — she 
looks  the  rube  part  all  right,  and — well,  you  can  tell  him 
to  come  and  see  me  dance  the  tiger  dance.  That'll  give 
him  something  new  in  ginghams.  Then  he  can  tell  the 
story  on  himself  if  he  wants  to." 

70.  "  Oh,  he's  seen  you  dance  and  he  doesn't  care  to 
repeat  the  story,  believe  me." 


530  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

71.  "Oh,  he  has,  has  he?"     Her  eyes  blazed. 

72.  "  Yes,  he  has.  If  you  want  to  know,  I  wrote 
'  I,  Too,  Have  Been  in  Arcady.'  I'm  your  childhood's 
friend." 

73.  She  stepped  away  from  him  three  slow  steps.  Her 
gaze  traveled  from  the  face  of  the  youth  in  the  portrait 
to  Allison's  living  presence. 

74.  "  You"  she  whispered.  "  You  wrote  Arcady — you 
wrote  '  The  Opal  Morning '  ?  No,  you  didn't.  You're 
lying — you — you  bally  rounder — you — you — the  Bright- 
light  pet !  " 

75.  "  Well,"  he  sneered,  "  what  about  it  ?  You,  my 
precious  little  country  girl — we're  quits." 

76.  "  But  you  couldn't !  "  There  was  a  sob  in  her 
voice.  "  You  couldn't  write  '  The  Slipped  Tether  ' — ^  The 
Steed  With  Wings  ' !  "  She  snatched  the  framed  picture 
and  held  it  to  her  breast  with  an  unconsciously  dramatic 
gesture. 

77.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  did."  His  anger  was  dying  down  in 
a  curious  new  curiosity  and  wonder.  "  And  '  Pan's  Hoof- 
prints,'  and  '  The  Little  Masque.'  You  see,  I  remember 
your  favorites." 

78.  She  turned  on  him  with  sudden  low-voiced  fury. 
"  And  you !  You  dared  to  write  like  that — to  make  me 
feel  like  that !  Isn't  there  any  truth  in  the  world — is 
everything  that  looks  beautiful  just  a  sham  and  a  cheat! 
I — I  worshiped  those  things.  They  took  me  out  of  myself 
— they  made  me  think  I  was  the  girl  who  wrote  you — 
and  now — bah !  "  She  threw  the  portrait  atop  of  the  let- 
ter in  the  trash  basket.    There  were  tears  on  her  lashes. 


77.    Another  fragment  of  the  decisive  moment,  as  he  begins  to 
comprehend  the  truth  about  her. 


The  Opal  Morning  531 

79.  "  Bleakfast,"  Saku  announced. 

80.  A  sudden  pushing  back  of  chairs,  yawns,  and  gig- 
gles as  the  party  broke  up,  and,  led  by  Van,  made  their 
way  to  the  dining-room. 

81.  "  Cooming — no  ?  "  the  little  Hungarian  called,  as 
she  hung  possessively  to  Matt's  arm. 

82.  "  In  a  minute,"  Helene  answered.  "  Go  ahead, 
don't  wait  for  me  " — her  voice  broke  on  the  last  word,  and 
she  feigned  to  cough,  as  she  waved  a  gesture  of  angry  dis- 
missal to  her  companion. 

83.  But  Allison  did  not  move.  "  If  you  care  so  much 
for  that  sort  of  thing — the  Arcady — why  this? '^  His 
spread  palm  indicated  the  gaming  table — its  oilcloth  sur- 
face smeared  with  spilt  champagne,  the  chips  piled  in 
uncounted  heaps. 

84.  "  Well,"  she  answered,  her  head  thrown  back,  her 
eyes  defiant.  "  If  you  care  so  much  for  Arcady,  why 
this?"  Her  gesture  of  loathing  included  him  from  top 
to  toe  and  seemed  to  background  him  with  all  the  reek 
and  vice  he  had  sneered  at. 

85.  "  But  I  don't  understand." 

86.  "  ISTeither  do  I."  She  came  back  fiercely.  ""  You 
don't  have  to  do  this  sort  of  thing." 

87.  "  Do  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

88.  "  I've  got  to  live,"  she  blazed. 

89.  "  But  not  like  this." 

90.  "  How  do  you  know  ?  I've  got  to  make  money — 
so  I  can  go  back." 

91.  "  To  the  farm,  hey?  "     His  own  voice  was  bitter. 

92.  "  No — back  to  Paris — back  to  work." 

93.  "  Ah — work."  His  tone  was  an  insult,  and  her 
cheeks  crimsoned. 


532  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

94.  "  Yes,  icorJi-.  Why  am  I  dancing  ?  Because  I 
won't  strain  my  voice — singing  in  the  slums,  the  only 
openings  I  could  get  over  here.  And  I've  got  a  voice,  and 
I'm  going  to  make  good,  sec  if  I  don't.  I  had  a  little 
money  when  I  came  of  age,  but  it's  all  used  up,  and  the 
war  broke  out  or  I'd  have  managed  somehow  there — in 
Paris.  I  had  to  come  back — but  I'm  not  beaten.  Do  you 
think  I  want  this — do  you  think  I  want  to  be  with  people 
like  that  ?  "  She  jerked  her  head  toward  the  dining-room, 
whence  came  sounds  of  maudlin  talk  and  inane  giggling. 
"  Do  you  think  I  want  such  men  as  you  around  me  ?  Well, 
I  don't.     You  rub  me  raw,  all  of  you — all  of  you !  " 

95.  The  words  of  her  letter  flashed  in  his  brain :  "  Do 
you  have  to  be  with  people  you  dislike  all  the  time  ?  " 
..."  My  soul  is  sand-papered  raw."  ..."  There's 
a  cascade,  a  rockery  here — a  horrid,  stilted,  man-made 
thing."  He  remembered  the  glass  grotto  of  the  restaurant, 
with  its  illumined  step.  .  .  .  "  I  hate  its  pour,  pour, 
pour." 

96.  He  looked  at  her,  all  his  resentment  gone.  Why, 
the  girl  had  written  her  heart  and  soul  in  those  letters  to 
a  stranger.  They  were  the  truth,  the  naked  truth.  He 
realized  that  he  alone  of  all  who  surrounded  her  knew  her. 
To  him  blindly  she  had  shown  herself.  "  Me  "  was  real. 
She  was  "  Me,"  and  with  that  sudden  understanding  came 
disgust  with  himself.  Yes,  he  was  a  pretty  poor  substi- 
tute for  Allyne.     Allyne  was  the  better  half  of  himself. 


94.  The  discovery  of  her  motive;  further  revelation  of  her 
better  nature. 

96.  The  decisive  moment  completed.  The  argument  that  fol- 
lows is  merely  further  anticipatory  delay.  But  see  par.  105  for 
the  detail  that  decides  her. 


The  Opal  Morning  533 

He,  the  man  of  the  world,  was  after  all,  a  pretty  low-down 
animal.  A  great  wave  of  pity  swept  over  him.  He  was 
resolved,  suddenly  and  impetuously  resolved  to  let  "  Me  " 
divorce  Helene,  and  return  to  herself  and  her  possi- 
bilities. 

97.  "  Listen  here,"  he  said  sharply.  "  I  believe  you 
wrote  your  real  self  in  those  letters.  I  believe  you  do 
want  to  get  out.  I  believe  it's  your  right  to  get  out.  If 
I  set  up  the  money,  and  it  won't  hurt  me — I've  got  a  lot 
of  it — will  you  clear  out  of  this  whole  thing?  Will  you 
go  back,  and  work — will  you  ?  " 

98.  She  quivered  with  indignation  from  head  to  foot. 
If  eyes  could  kill  he  would  have  been  smitten  dead. 

99.  "  How  dare  you,  how  dare  you !  "  she  stam- 
mered. 

100.  He  looked  at  her  gravely.  "  Why,  of  course,  I 
dare.  I  mean  it.  I'm  just  fool  enough  to  have  faith  in 
the  '  Me  '  I  know  in  those  letters." 

101.  "  You — you — or  your  kind — give  something  for 
nothing,  just  to  help — a — a  cabaret  dancer — not  much!  " 
She  laughed,  and  her  laughter  was  poisonous  in  its  weary 
hate. 

102.  "  I  don't  blame  you,"  he  said  gently.  "  But,  look 
here.  I  know  something  of  the  real  you,  you  see,  and  / 
wrote  the  Arcady.  That,  too,  is  myself.  Nobody  except 
my  publishers  and  the  artist  who  drew  the  picture  of  what 
I'd  like  to  look  like  know  that  I,  Forbes  Allison,  am  For- 
rest Allyne.  Listen  to  me.  I  don't  ask  you  to  accept  any- 
thing from  Allison.  I  wouldn't  ask  you — but — you  know 
what  this  life  is.  You  know  what  you  want  to  be.  Here 
is  the  way  out — take  it !  Not  from  me,  but  from  the  man 
who  was  once  in  Arcady,  from  that  other  one  who  wrote 


534  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

of  real  dawns.     You  needn't  be  afraid,  and  you  couldn't 
resent  it  from  him." 

103.  She  crossed  her  arms  about  her  body  as  if  to  hold 
herself  together.  Her  teeth  were  chattering;  her  brows 
contracted  as  if  in  unendurable  pain.  He  put  his  hand 
on  her  naked  shoulder,  and  his  touch  had  all  the  gentle- 
ness of  a  ministering  saint.  Even  her  resentful  flesh  did 
not  wince. 

104.  "  Little  sister — because — I  know  the  real  you,  be- 
cause you  know  the  other  one  in  me — let  me — open  the 
door  of  freedom  for  you — let  me " 

105.  There  was  a  cry,  a  crash  of  plates,  a  burst  of 
riotous  laughter  and  confused  exclamations. 

106.  "  Ah  God !  "  She  quivered  and  turned  to  him, 
sick  with  disgust.  She  was  silent  a  moment,  the  lovely 
lids  closing  over  her  tired  eyes.  Then  she  straightened  and 
looked  at  him.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.  "  '  You  ' 
— you  may  help  '  Me.'  " 

107.  His  face  relaxed,  his  eyes  darkened  and  softened 
till  for  a  moment  the  shadow  and  semblance  of  the 
mythical  portrait  seemed  to  dwell  upon  his  different  face. 

108.  "  Thank  you,  '  Me,'  "  he  said  softly,  and,  cross- 
ing to  the  window,  drew  back  the  curtains  and  raised  the 
shade. 

109.  The  sky  above  the  house-tops  rushed  to  meet  them, 


106-110.  Note  particularly  the  closing  sentence  of  106,  in  whicB 
she  lifts  him  with  her  to  the  higher  level  that  he  is  making  possible 
to  her.  Study  the  wording  to  discover  how  it  implies  his  reclama- 
tion as  well  as  hers;  and,  incidentally,  how  it  suggests  the  love 
element  mentioned  in  introd.  n.  3.  The  rest  merely  expresses  witB 
heightened  emotion  the  atmosphere  of  their  spiritual  triumph. 
Study  here,  too,  however,  the  means  employed  to  effect  this 
expression. 


The  Opal  Morning  535 

streaming  lights  of  pink  and  silver  against  the  greenish 
heavens,  purple  shadows  back  of  chimney-pots  that  had 
turned  to  cornelian  and  coral,  flecks  of  gold  and  drifts 
of  milky  blue. 

110.    "'Me,'"    he    said    softly.      "  Look— the    opal 
morning !  " 


THE  GREAT  GOD 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  "  The  Great  God  "  almost  sets  aside  conventional 
categories  in  its  demand  to  be  classified,  not  among  theme . 
stories,  but  as  an  interpretation  of  life  (S.  S.  M.,  1:1-6; 
6:  15-16;  34:20;  256-257).  This  is  not  because  it  defi- 
nitely sets  itself  up  as  a  purpose-story  (S.  S.  M.,  27 :  4-8)  ; 
but  because  of  the  skill  and  artistry  with  which  it  in- 
tegrates its  theme  and  purpose  through  concrete  persons 
and  a  history  in  concrete  episodes  of  a  love  and  a  typical 
character-change  (S.  S.  M.,  7:  3-9).  It  rises  far  superior 
to  the  baldness  and  dry  argument  of  the  merely  didactic 
story  (S.  S.  M.,  26:  1-3).  Though  interpretation  of  life 
will  be  found  in  softie  degree  in  all  the  stories  reprinted 
in  this  book  (S.  S.  M.,  5:21-22),  yet  some  of  them 
concern  merely  fraginents  of  life,  or  aspects  of  life  in 
curious  or  restricted  manifestations,  or  life  manifesting 
itself  as  affected  by  particular,  possibly  even  peculiar  and 
remote,  motive  and  points  of  view  in  the  persons  pre- 
sented. But  others  are  close  to  "  The  Great  God  "  in  af- 
fording an  impressive  interpretation  of  existence  from 
some  fundamental  principle,  or  as  found  in  widely-rec- 
ognized manifestations.  Such  are  (in  the  probable  order 
merely  of  their  interpretive  scope  and  effectiveness)  "  An 
Epilogue,"  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,"  and  "  The  Opal 
Morning."  About  these,  especially  the  last-named,  judg- 
ments may  differ  when  they  are  compared  with  some  of 
the  other  stories;  but  decision  will  depend  largely  on  the 

536 


The  Great  God  537 

answer  to  one  question :  Does  the  choice  made  of  per- 
sons, incidents,  situation,  setting — of  the  concrete  forms 
through  which  the  interpretation  is  conveyed — restrict  the 
universality  of  the  representation;  is  the  story  conceived 
in  forms  that  create  an  impression  of  wide-encircling  sig- 
nificance (for  example,  is  "  Miss  Mitty  "  or  "  Tropics  " 
or  "  The  Love  of  Men  "  as  extensively  representative  of 
the  life  of  mankind  as  is  "  The  Rag-Time  Lady,"  "  In  the 
Matter  of  Distance,"  or  "  The  Opal  Morning  ")  ? 

2.  The  story  is  notable,  not  only  for  making  an  inter- 
pretation of  life,  but  for  making  the  interpretation  of  life 
by  means  of  an  interpretation  of  the  spirit  and  point  of 
view  of  art;  see  par.  5,  n.  (Incidentally,  this  method  is 
helpfully  illustrative  of  the  matters  discussed  in  S.  S.  M., 
194:9-13;  212:5-7;  246:9— how  the  author  can  convey 
his  criticism  of  life  without  injecting  in  any  way  the  dis- 
turbing element  of  his  own  individuality.)  Cf.  "  The  De- 
fective," "  The  Rag-Time  Lady,"  "  The  Song,"  et  al.) 

3.  Character-creation  (S.  S.  M.,  214-228)  is  accom- 
plished with  much  skill  in  Isadore,  who  is  conceived  as  the 
representative  of  the  artistic  spirit  and  point  of  view  (see 
par.  5,  n.,  and  introd.  n.  2),  is  adequately  individualized, 
is  shown  acting  as  becomes  his  character,  and  is  made  to 
speak  in  thorough  keeping  with  his  part  (S.  S.  M.,  234: 
10-13;  241:1;  and  more  broadly  234-246  inclusive). 
This  last  fact  provides  opportunity  also  for  study  of  dia- 
logue adaptation. 

4.  Isadore,  though  he  is  the  person  more  prominently 
before  us,  may  not  unfairly  be  regarded  as  the  person  of 
second  importance  in  the  creation  of  the  total  impression. 
The  central  person  is  Suzanne,  since  it  is  in  her  that  the 
character-transformation   occurs   on   which   the   establish- 


538  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ment  of  the  thcmc-vicw  and  the  unified  effect  depends. 
Isadore  is  merely  the  person  through  whom  we  are  brought 
to  realize  the  significance  of  the  events  in,  and  the  out- 
come of,  the  supporting  plot  action  employed  in  establish- 
ing the  theme.  (On  the  choice  of  Isadore  as  the  narrator 
of  the  plot  events,  see  S.  S.  M.,  138 :  3-4,  and  the  note  on 
par.  5  of  "  The  Great  God.") 

5.  A  certain  resemblance  in  structure  may  be  noted  be- 
tween this  story  and  "  Nerve."  Each  depends  largely 
upon  concentrative  materials.  Each  requires  a  consider- 
able preparation  for  the  taking  up  of  the  plotted  part  of 
the  narrative.  In  each,  the  plot-action  is  embodied  in  a 
narrative  recounted  by  an  actor  in  the  events,  but  the 
opening  is  presented  by  an  outsider.  In  each,  the  theme 
is  made  clear  and  much  of  the  motivation  accomplished 
outside  of  the  part  that,  strictly  speaking,  develops  the 
action  of  the  plot  itself,  and  in  each  this  motivation  lies 
almost  entirely  in  character.  In  "  Nerve,"  the  action  re- 
quired by  the  plot  (strictly  so  called,  in  distinction  from 
the  broader  term  "  structure  ")  is  all  included  in  a  two- 
part  incident,  that  of  the  quarrel  at  the  gaming-table  and 
the  following  assertion  of  his  manhood  by  "  the  kid."  In 
"  The  Great  God,"  the  action  required  by  the  plot  (like- 
wise strictly  so  called)  may  be  regarded  as  likewise  con- 
sisting of  two  incidents — the  loving  and  parting  of  Isa- 
dore and  Suzanne,  and  their  meeting  ten  years  later — the 
difference  lying  mainly  in  the  fact  that  what  we  are  term- 
ing incidents  in  "  The  Great  God  "  consume  much  more 
time  than  do  the  incidents  in  "  Nerve,"  and  that  the  in- 
terval between  is  ten  years  in  the  former  and  two  hours 
or  so  in  the  latter.  Disregarding  this  difference  in  the 
length  of  the  incidental  periods  in  the  two  stories,  we  find 


The  Geeat  God  539 

their  structure  closely  parallel  in  tbis  respect  as  well  as 
in  those  already  cited.  On  the  other  hand,  we  find  that 
"  Nerve  "  introduces  most  of  its  contributory  and  concen- 
trative  detail  before  taking  up  the  truly  actional  stage  of 
the  narrative,  whereas  "  The  Great  God  "  includes  much 
of  this  contributory  and  concentrative  material  within  the 
actional  stage.  (As  throwing  light  on  the  theory  of  nar- 
ration in  composition,  note  how  including  such  detail 
within  the  actional  stage  helps  to  create  the  illusion  of  the 
lapse  of  time;  note  for  example  the  effect  of  pars.  49-52 
in  creating  the  sense  of  a  lapse  of  time  between  what  pre- 
cedes and  what  follows.) 

6.  Though  built  primarily  upon  a  theme,  "  The  Great 
God  "  might  with  accuracy  be  classified  as  an  atmosphere- 
story  (because  of  its  intense  subjective  coloring — S.  S.  M., 
54-70)  or  as  a  character-story  (because  of  the  character- 
change  in  Suzanne  on  which  it  depends  and  the  strength 
and  definiteness  of  character  present  in  Isadore — S.  S.  M., 
43-54).  On  such  classifications,  see  S.  S.  M.,  54:  1,  and 
cf.  the  various  other  specimens  of  theme-story  in  this 
volume. 


THE  GREAT  GOD 

By  Mary  Heaton  Vorse 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Editors  and  the  Author  from 

"  VVoman's   Home   Companion,"   March,    1917. 

(Copyright,  1917) 

1.  Everyone  knows  that  Isadore  Rossenoff  will  never 
play  in  society.  His  attitude  toward  his  audiences  is  so 
much  a  matter  of  comment  that  even  the  paragraph  writers 
and  cartoonists  have  commented  on  the  way  he  bows  to  it. 
He  cannot  help  bowing  gracefully,  because  he  has  that 
supreme  beauty  so  rare  among  civilized  men,  a  great 
beauty  of  movement,  as  if  his  quality  of  a  great  artist 
translated  itself  into  each  act  of  his,  whether  it  be  the 
drawing  of  his  bow  across  his  violin,  or  walking  across  the 
street,  or  bowing  to  his  audience.  But  he  bows  like  a 
somnambulist,  his  melancholy  and  brooding  eyes  looking 
into  space  as  though  fixed  on  some  vision  of  the  spirit.  He 
acknowledges  the  applause  of  his  audience  as  from  a  great 
body  of  people.  He  does  not  recognize  the  individuals  who 
compose  it.  He  does  not  know  how  this  piques  women, 
and  how  his  apparent  disdain  has  contributed  to  his  success. 

2.  A  lesser  circle,  but  a  very  wide  one,  still  knows 
another  peculiarity  of  his.      Unlike  many  instrumental 


1.  A  non-sensational  beginning  that  catches  interest — (pecul- 
iarity in  a  well-known  personage). 

2.  Interest  ("suspense")  increased  by  cumulation — added 
peculiarity,  attracting  more  wondering  attention  because  it  is  less 
known  (is  a  touch  of  the  unexplained). 

540 


The  Great  God  541 

virtuosi,  Isadore  has  a  passion  for  the  opera.  He  sits  three 
rows  back  in  one  of  the  highest  galleries,  and  the  reason 
for  this  I  am  one  of  the  few  who  know. 

3.  Isadore  himself  told  it  to  me,  sitting  with  the  light 
of  my  fire  playing  on  his  puissant,  ugly,  Slavic  face, 
which  is  so  at  variance  with  the  soft  Oriental  eyes,  for, 
like  many  Eussian  Jews  he  has  the  qualities  of  the  land 
of  his  birth  rather  than  of  his  race. 

4.  Now,  as  Isadore  plays  as  freely  as  the  wind  blows 
for  his  own  friends,  this  great  musician  will  bring  around 
his  violin  and  play  for  me  half  an  afternoon  at  a  time. 
Like  the  rest  of  the  world,  I  had  thought  his  peculiarity 
a  caprice,  and  once,  for  what  I  thought  was  a  good  reason, 
I  ventured  to  beg  that  he  would  break  through  his  rule. 
Often  good  reasons  produce  intrusions, 

5.  "  Listen,"  said  Isadore,  "  neither  for  you  nor  for 
anyone  whom  I  love  would  I  torment  myself  as  I  must 
to  do  what  you  ask.  When  you  hear  why,  very  likely  you 
will  call  me  morbid ;  but  an  artist  is  supposed  to  have  a 
right  to  his  vagaries,  and  I  will  not  go  into  any  company 
where  I  see  about  me  these  terrible,  well-cared-for,  well- 
groomed  women,  each  one  of  whom  brings  to  my  mind  the 
defeat  of  the  most  bright  and  adorable  spirit  that  I  have 
ever  known. 


3.  Attention  continued  by  promise  of  the  explanation.  Note 
the  item  of  race-characterization. 

4.  Character-hint  (S.  S.  M.,  257).  Plausible  and  convmcing 
introduction  of  the  main  narrative  told  in  the  words  of  the  one 
person  competent  to  give  it  its  full  emotional  as  well  as  intellectual 
significance — one  of  the  two  leading  actors  in  it. 

5.  Forecast  of  the  character-change  that  constitutes  the  impres- 
sive aspect  of  the  outcome. — Choice  of  an  artist,  "  supposed  to 
have.  ...  his  vagaries,"  as  the  person  from  whose  point  of 
view  the  events  shall  be  presented,  is  well  made;  all  the  attacks 


542  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

6.  "  Do  yoii  know  what  to  me  is  the  most  terrible  sight 
in  all  Xew  York  ?  Worse  than  the  pitiable  procession  of 
little  girls  np  Broadway?  It  is  the  women  in  the  foyer 
of  the  opera.  "When  I  look  at  them  it  is  with  pity  and 
with  dismay,  and  finally  with  terror.  How  can  there  be 
so  many  women,  I  ask  myself,  who  look  so  inhuman? 
Oh,  the  splendor  of  their  perfection,  how  terrible  it  is. 


of  vocationalism,  industrialism,  materialistic  science,  all  the 
powers  of  darkness  in  all  their  aspects,  leave  our  artists  still  in 
the  place  of  final  leadership.  Ultimately  they  are  our  seers, 
prophets,  and  teachers — the  only  ones  on  whom  we  can  depend  to 
teach  us  the  hate  of  evil  and  injustice,  the  love  of  liberty,  devotion 
to  truth  and  beauty — always  the  ones  to  whom  we  turn  when  we 
are  driven  back  to  seek  for  mankind  a  guiding  vision  and  abid- 
ing revelation.  Only  through  their  art  is  the  truth  and  beauty 
of  spirit  preserved  from  the  ignorance  and  hostility  of  our  hordes 
of  the  great  and  the  small.  Art  is  therefore  the  interpreter  and 
the  judge  of  the  world's  work  and  thought;  and  the  artist  is  its 
mouthpiece  and  herald.  Hence  from  no  human  lips  so  authori- 
tative as  those  of  the  artist,  and  from  no  human  standards  so 
high  and  broad  and  deep  as  his,  could  be  pronounced  a  judg- 
ment upon  man  and  society  such  as  this  story  is  meant  to  pro- 
nounce. The  choice  of  an  artist  to  represent  the  point  of  view 
of  this  judgment  is  therefore  not  to  be  called  able;  it  was  almost 
inescapable.  (The  interpretation  of  the  artistic  spirit  and  ideal 
embodied  in  "  The  Great  God  "  is  itself  so  true  and  inspiring  as 
to  leave  no  doubt  of  the  author's  right  to  claim  kinship  in  spirit 
with  the  true  artists.  What  other  stories  in  this  volume  betray 
either  in  fundamental  concept  or  in  occasional  passages  this 
artistic  outlook  upon  life?  Does  "The  Cat  and  the  Fiddle"  do 
so?  "A  Rag-Time  Lady?"  "The  Opal  Morning?"  "The 
Last  Rose  of  Summer?"  "The  Song?"  "What  the  Vandals 
Leave?"  On  revelation  of  the  author's  view-point,  see  S.  S.  M., 
189:1-3;  194:9-13;  on  fundamental  sincerity,  S.  S.  M.,  178:2-3; 
199:14-15.) 

6.  Here  and  throughout,  study  the  manner  of  speech  into  which 
Isadore's  narrative  is  individualized  (individualizing  of  dialogue, 
S.  S.  M.,  236: 13).    Study  also  the  manner  in  which  the  phrasing 


The  Great  God  543 

One  after  another,  one  after  another,  I  see  them :  early 
middle-age  and  middle-age,  calm  and  magnificent,  their 
too-abundant  flesh  carefully  corseted,  their  arms  and 
bosoms  shining,  every  detail  of  them  speaking  how  they 
live  in  the  realm  of  the  body,  and  how  much  thought  and 
time  it  has  taken  to  give  them  that  special  aspect  of  per- 
fection. One  knows  how  they  live,  how  sheltered  are  they 
from  every  uncomfortable  physical  sensation.  They 
shrink  from  discomfort  more  shudderingly  than  a  braver 
race  shrinks  from  pain. 

7.  "  But  what  is  more  terrible  to  me  than  these  women 
are  the  little  girls  who  accompany  them.  You  see  them 
with  flower  faces,  straight  as  beautiful  young  trees,  and 
you  know  the  fate  that  almost  inevitably  awaits  them.  It 
is  to  have  the  inner  flaming  spirit  entombed  by  the  ease 
of  life,  by  the  habit  of  luxury,  until  at  thirty-five  or  forty 
they,  too,  will  be  bound  hand  and  foot  to  the  comfort  of 
living,  to  the  appointments  of  their  houses,  to  the  things 
they  eat,  drink,  and  wear. 


is  made  to  emphasize  impression,  and  especially  the  choice  of 
descriptive  and  qualifying  adjectives.  In  the  individual  words 
and  the  phrasing  of  them  lies  much  of  the  tone-impression  (as 
well  as  of  the  character-indication)  of  this  story  (S.  S.  M., 
236:  6).  Part  of  the  effectiveness  achieved  through  style-manage- 
ment comes  from  the  coupling  together  of  ideals  that  are  not 
usually  associated  ("Terrible,  well-cared  for.  .  .  .  women"), 
or  that  strongly  contrast  with  each  other  ("flaming  spirit 
entombed  "). 

7.  Theme  brought  forward. — Note  the  contrasts  present  through- 
out the  story;  as  in  par.  6  set  off  against  par.  7.  The  outcome 
that  concretely  embodies  the  theme  proposition  is  itself  a  char- 
acter-change in  which  the  ultimate  character  is  in  utter  contrast 
with  its  earlier  self;  that  is,  the  theme-effect  of  the  story  is 
dependent  on  the  successful  presentation  of  a  basic  character 
contrast. 


544  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

8.  "  No  real  joy  of  the  body,  no  more  true  gayety,  no 
flaming  and  sudden  wrong-doing,  even,  is  possible  to  them. 
And  an  assembly  of  this  kind  shows  me  how  narrow  is  the 
needle's  eye  and  how  few  of  the  rich  escape  this  withering 
of  the  spirit  that  once  I  saw  happen  to  the  soul  most  dear 
to  me,  to  the  one  who  meant  to  me  the  vision  of  life,  and 
who  was  bound  up  with  all  my  highest  dreams,  and  whom 
I  saw  make  a  sacrifice  of  her  whole  life  as  gay-heartedly, 
and  beautifully,  and  naturally  as  a  rose  blooms,  so  high 
was  her  gallantry. 

9.  "  There  was  only  one  force  in  the  world  that  could 
have  destroyed  the  beauty  of  her.  It  has  destroyed  na- 
tions; but  I  do  not  like  to  see  it  at  work. 

10.  "  When  I  was  younger  I  used  to  play  at  drawing- 
rooms  as  you  wanted  me  to  do.  I  had  been  making  a  bit 
of  a  success.  I  was  just  beginning  to  be  known  a  little 
and,  through  a  kind  word  said  for  me  by  Sarasarte,  I  was 


8-9.  Effect  of  coherence  and  plausibility  is  gained  because  this 
feeling  of  Isadore,  which  is  one  of  the  motivating  elements,  also 
explains  to  the  satisfaction  of  our  curiosity  the  question  raised  by 
par.  2.  (Note  that,  though  it  removes  the  stimulus  to  interest 
provided  by  par.  2,  it  substitutes  in  us,  in  place  of  curiosity,  a 
more  personal  interest  in  the  man). — Pars.  1-9  provide  initial 
characterization  of  the  narrator,  a  leading  personage  in  the  events 
he  recounts;  indicate  the  contrast  involved  in  the  theme,  and  the 
outcome  of  the  struggle  of  forces  on  which  the  theme  is  based; 
strikes  the  keynote  of  narrative  and  of  spiritual  tone  and  mood; 
and  pass  over  without  a  jar  into  the  narrative  of  the  plot-events 
themselves. 

10.  From  here  forward  the  story  consists  of  the  narrative  of 
direct  plot  action.  The  sequence  is  strictly  chronological.  The 
structure  may  be  thus  indicated:  (1)  Generating  circumstance 
(meeting  of  the  lovers),  with  characterization  of  both,  but  espe- 
cially of  the  girl,  who  is  the  chief  figure.  (2)  Rising  action: 
growth  of  their  love.  (3)  Rising  action:  complication  and  first 
episode  of  struggle  and  crisis  in  Isadore's  resolution  to  abandon 


I 


The  Great  God  545 

invited  to  play  at  a  fashionable  house.  When  I  got  through 
I  stood  there  smoldering  and  sulky,  looking  at  these  young 
people,  these  beautiful  women  with  all  expression  ironed 
out  of  their  faces.  The  luxury  of  the  company  revolted 
me;  so  did  the  appointments  of  the  house;  so  did  all  the 
display  of  wealth,  from  the  supper  even  to  the  sum  they 
paid  me  for  playing.  I  thought  how  each  of  the  notes  I 
had  played  had  been  bought  by  my  own  self-denial  and 
that  of  my  family,  and  with  what  toil  my  mother  had 
given  her  life  that  I  might  make  myself  ready  to  amuse 
these  idle  people  who  did  not  even  understand  what  I  was 
playing,  but  who  liked  to  have  their  senses  tickled  by 
music. 

11.    "  My  hostess  took  my  resentment  for  shyness,  and 
very  kindly  led  me  over  and  introduced  me  to  a  girl,  oh, 


Suzanne.  (4)  Rising  action :  second  episode  (in  form  a  climactic 
incident)  of  struggle  and  crisis,  balancing  the  first;  their  love  d"e- 
clared.  (5)  Rising  action:  approach  to  decisive  moment;  main 
climax  of  the  action  in  the  decisive  moment  (Suzanne's  renuncia- 
tion, followed  by  her  marriage  to  the  rich  man).  The  divisions 
named  above  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  grand  division  of  Isa- 
dore's  narrative.  Co-ordinate  with  this  in  its  importance  to  the 
total  impi'ession  is  the  shorter  but  indispensable  division  (6)  that 
follows :  the  spiritual  result  consequent  on  the  outcome  of  the 
action,  i.e.,  upon  Suzanne's  marriage  to  wealth  (observe  the  sig- 
nificance here  of  par.  59).  This  last  division  completes  the  impres- 
sion for  which  the  story  as  a  whole  was  written,  because  it  pre- 
sents to  us  the  contrast  of  Suzanne-as-she-had-become  with 
Suzanne-as-she-was.  It  is  therefore  the  stage  of  greatest  effect,  in 
both  Isadore's  narrative  and  the  story  as  a  whole  ( S.  S.  M., 
92:1;  93:4). 

11.  Observe  here  and  throughout  the  simplicity  and  yet  the 
intensity  of  the  description — a  fact  thoroughly  consistent  with  the 
conception  of  narrative  in  the  mouth  of  an  artist;  art  is  always 
simple  yet,  in  pi'oportion  to  its  theme,  intense.  Note  likewise 
the  indication  of  the  artistic  point  of  view,  the  understanding, 


546  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

a  beautiful  girl,  very  young,  untouched  and  unstained  by 
anything  sordid.  She  was  still  throbbing  with  the  music 
I  had  played,  for  when  I  met  her  she  turned  from  white 
to  flame  and  white  again,  and  opened  her  mouth  to  speak 
and  forgot  what  she  was  going  to  say  and  left  it  opened, 
like  a  shy  child.  It  was  like  seeing  one  of  the  shimmering, 
quivering  things  that  I  play  standing  before  me,  made 
flesh,  and,  because  I  was  an  impudent  Jewish  boy  and  self- 
possessed  for  all  my  sulky  ways,  I  smiled  and  said  to  her : 

12.  "  '  Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  for  I'm  more  afraid 
of  you  than  you  of  me,  and  with  more  cause ! ' 

13.  "  At  that  her  color  flamed  back  again. 

14.  "  '  And  why  should  you  be  afraid  of  me  ? '  she 
asked. 

15.  "  '  Because  this  is  my  first  party,'  said  I,  in  my 
most  serious  way,  '  and  I  have  met  very  few  young  ladies 
in  my  life.' 

16.  "  '  Then  we  are  equal !  '  she  said,  as  she  clapped 
her  hands  together,  '  for  this  is  my  first  party,  too,  in  New 
York,  and  you  are  the  very  first  musician  whom  I  have 
met  at  all !  ' 

lY.  "  '  And  how  do  you  like  your  first  party  ? '  I  asked 
her. 

18.  "  '  It's  divine ! ' 

19.  "  Do  you  remember  when  young  girls  called  every- 
thing '  divine  '  ?  " 


disciplined  yet  irrepressible  feeling,  that  artists  experience  toward 
life  and  the  world  (e.g.,  the  closing  sentence).  Such  interpreting 
comment  is  found  throughout  the  story;  look  for  other  instances 
of  it.  In  these  deep-founded  philosophical  asides,  so  consistent 
with  the  talk  of  an  artist  because  so  representative  of  the  artistic 
mind  and  nature,  lies  much  of  the  strength  of  the  present  story 
as  an  interpretation  of  life  and  its  forces. 


The  Great  God  547 

20.  Isadore  looked  up  at  me,  and  his  eyes  were  shining 
with  tenderness  at  the  memory  of  it. 

21.  "  We  sat  down  together  and  talked  as  though  we 
had  met  again  after  a  long  absence.  This  is  the  way,  de- 
pend on  it,  that  love  at  first  sight  comes,  not  as  a  por- 
tentous and  shattering  thing.  It  slips  up  on  you  while 
you  are  not  looking.     You  have  the  sense  of  reunion,  of 

21.  May  be  thought  of  as  another  indication  of  the  directness 
and  simplicity  of  the  artistic  mind.  Observe  the  simple  frankness 
with  which,  all  through  the  story,  Isadore  thinks  and  speaks  of 
intimate  and  sacred  facts — taking  it  for  granted,  as  should  be 
the  case,  that  (his  audience  being  fit)  on  high  and  vital  themes 
man's  discourse  may  freely  run.  "  Out  of  the  fullness  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh."  (One  of  the  most  damning  charges 
against  any  literature — and  it  has  been  laid  against  literature  in 
America — is  failure  to  deal  with  vital  things.  There  is  no  deny- 
ing that  our  writers  have  often  been  reticent  upon  the  highest 
and  deepest  themes — have  sometimes,  unlike  Mrs.  Vorse,  expended 
their  energy  and  their  technique  upon  insignificant  conceptions. 
But  if  on  the  whole  they  have  fallen  short  in  this  respect,  they 
may  not  be  the  ones  solely  to  blame.  Our  American  democracy, 
in  raising  our  people  to  the  level  of  a  self-satisfied  and  partly  edu- 
cated middle  class — which  rise  and  education  are  a  triumphant 
result — has  yet  created  a  public  well  qualified  to  read  along  the 
middle  levels,  but  not  always  to  appreciate  the  outlook  or  the  air 
of  the  mountain  tops.  How  many  powerful  studies  of  life,  in 
verse,  play,  conte,  and  novel,  have  been  laid  dejectedly  away 
upon  the  shelf  by  writers  of  achieved  or  potential  mastership, 
because  the  selective  agents  of  prevailing  taste  and  intelligence 
refused  them,  heaven  knows.  That  intelligence  and  apprecia- 
tion steadily  increase  among  us,  seems  certain.  But  it  is  also 
true  that  the  literature  so  far  produced  by  our  democracy  has 
often  been  reticent  concerning  the  highly  and  intimately  spiritual, 
and  that  our  literary  and  dramatic  art,  where  it  has  succeeded  in 
getting  before  the  public  an  interpretation  of  such  things,  has 
often  been  forced  to  embody  them  in  persons  and  situations  and 
to  express  them  in  language  leveled  down  to  the  comprehension 
of  many  far  from  adequately  educated  and  cultured  (the  society 
depicted  ia  "The  Last  Rose  of  Summer"  is  a  fair  example). 


548  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

meeting  in  the  flesh  your  heart's  heart,  of  something  you 
have  known  like  your  mother  from  the  time  you  were 
nursed  at  her  breast.  There  is  nothing  that  you  wish  to 
shield  yourself  from  at  first. 

22.  "  '  How  do  you  like  your  first  party  ? '  Suzanne 
asked  me. 

23.  "  She  was  so  gay  and  happy  that  I  hated  to  dampen 
her  pleasure,  but  I  felt  that  there  must  be  perfect  truth 
between  us  from  the  first.  So  I  told  her  as  gently  as  I 
might  how  I  had  lived. 

24.  "  Then  I  told  her  of  my  mother,  so  prematurely 
aged,  and  how  the  sight  of  these  people  brought  her  before 
me,  until  I  saw  pity  for  the  world  move  in  Suzanne's  soul ; 
and  anyone  who  awakens  this  pity  in  another  heart  links 
that  person  to  himself. 


That,  notwithstanding  such  an  obstacle  to  artistic  vitality 
and  power,  our  writers  have  frequently  succeeded  in  interpreting 
to  us  not  only  the  life  of  our  democracy  as  it  is,  but  also  (even  in 
commonplace  embodiments  and  a  style  adapted  to  mediocre  ap- 
preciations) spiritual  conceptions  of  exalted  significance,  mani- 
fests the  irrepressible  spiritual  impulse  of  art  and  the  skill  of  our 
artists,  and  promises  our  continued  if  sometimes  slow  advance 
in  such  intellectual  and  spiritual  culture.  We  may  hope  there- 
fore for  the  time  when  fewer  people  will  be  too  modest  to  face 
the  facts  of  physical  life  except  in  prurient  presentations,  too 
indolent  of  mind  to  think  intently  upon  stern  problems  of  exist- 
ence, too  narrow  and  dull  to  be  interested  in  persons  and  things 
outside  the  range  of  their  own  circumscribed  experience  and 
their  dime-novel  or  movie-comedy  imagination,  or  too  turtle- 
souled  to  keep  their  head  out  of  the  shell  when  a  spiritual  theme 
is  held  forth  toward  them.  Our  part  in  the  world-struggle  for 
Liberty  bids  fair  to  win  us  a  notable  advance  in  this  sjairitual 
freedom  also.) 

23.  Give  the  story  a  looking-through  for  instances  of  character- 
hints  (S.  S.  M.,  257)  in  speech  or  act. 

24.  Is  this  in  general  the  spirit  of  art? 


The  Gkeat  God  549 

25.  "  '  This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  been  glad  I  am 
poor,  and  sorry  that  I'm  going  to  be  rich/  she  said  to  me. 

26.  "  '  And  why  are  you  going  to  be  rich  ? ' 

27.  "  '  Because/  she  answered,  '  the  man  I  am  to  marry 
is  rich.' 

28.  "  As  she  said  that  I  knew  that  I  loved  her,  and  the 
pain  at  my  heart  made  me  put  into  words  almost  uncon- 
sciously the  thought  which  sprang  up  in  me: 

29.  "  '  Why  are  you  marrying  him  since  you  are  not 
in  love  ? '  At  this  she  looked  at  me  with  the  wide-open  and 
startled  eyes  of  a  gentle,  frightened,  wild  creature. 

30.  "  '  Why ! '  she  said,  '  I  do  love  him,  and  I've  al- 
ways loved  him.  I've  known  him  ever  since  I  can  remem- 
ber, and  I  have  always  loved  him.' 

31.  "  But  I  knew  that  for  the  first  time  she  realized 
that  she  didn't.  So  in  that  one  evening  each  one  had 
broken  to  pieces  the  other's  life.  Life  for  me  had  been, 
up  to  that  time,  one  of  deep  austerity.  I  walked  between 
two  walls ;  poverty  on  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other,  work. 
I  had  one  life  before  me,  and  that  was  ambition ;  and  one 
pleasure,  and  that  was  music ;  and  of  course  I  had 
dreamed  dreams  and  I  had  read  books,  and  then  love  came 
to  me  in  the  shape  that  I  had  dreamed.  At  least,  I  had 
that  to  be  thankful  for,  for  to  how  many  does  that  happen  ? 

32.  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her  as  I  saw  her. 
What  beautiful  and  wonderful  things  a  special  training 


31.  Determine  for  yourself  whether  a  rise  in  intensity  charac- 
terizes the  passage,  pars.  11-31.  Pick  out  other  passages  that  re- 
veal the  climactic  growth  of  emotion  or  situation. — Would  it  be 
accurate  to  say  that  par.  31  is  powerful?  Can  intense  emotion 
be  expressed  in  quiet  language? 

32.  See  S.  S.  M.,  107 :  29  and  footnote,  with  preceding  and  fol- 
lowing context. 


550  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

can  make  of  a  woman !  She  had  been  brought  up  by  her 
grandmother,  who  had  made  Suzanne  the  poetry  in  her 
life  of  self-denial.  She  had  been  an  artist  in  human 
nature  and  had  perceived  the  rarity  of  Suzanne's  soul,  and 
developed  it,  and  sheltered  it,  and  molded  it  as  only  tradi- 
tion combined  with  seclusion  from  the  world  may  do.  In 
Suzanne's  expression  was  that  calm  serenity  that  only  a 
cloistered  life,  combined  with  high  idealism,  gives.  One 
saw  through  what  beautiful  and  spacious  days  she  had 
lived. 

33.  "  I  learned  that  she  had  become  engaged  to  a 
neighbor,  a  man  older  than  herself,  whom  she  had  known 
always  and  who  knew  evidently  how  to  cherish  the  jewel 
life  had  given  him.  She  was  in  New  York  for  the  first 
time,  staying  with  an  aunt  while  she  learned  the  ways  of 
society  and  bought  her  wedding  outfit. 

34.  "  I  did  not  see  her  for  three  days,  and  during  that 
time  she  thought  constantly  of  the  world  in  which  I  had 
lived,  and  my  question,  '  Why  do  you  marry  him  if  you 
do  not  love  him  ? '  echoed  and  reechoed  in  her  heart  like 
a  strain  of  torturing  music.  She  learned  as  I  did  how 
long  three  days  may  be  in  passing.  Before  this,  her  days 
had  come  and  gone  of  equal  length,  beautiful  and  peace- 
ful, framed  between  sunset  and  sunrise,  as  mine  had  been 
bounded  by  an  eagerness  for  my  toil  and  a  deep  weariness 
at  the  day's  end. 

35.  "  Suzanne's  aunt  was  an  amiable  and  indolent 
woman  who  saw  no  danger  in  me.  She  handed  the  chaper- 
oning of  Suzanne  over  to  some  young  married  friend,  and 


35.  Note  that  mere  supplementary  and  subordinate  motivating 
may  be  introduced  merely  as  a  sentence  or  two  of  passing  explana- 
tion.   This  method  is  the  simplest  and  most  obvious,  and  also  the 


The  Great  God  551 

I  took  her  with  me  to  show  her  where  I  had  lived.  I  had 
her  meet  some  of  my  friends.  This  went  on  for  two  weeks. 
As  I  watched  her  and  listened  to  her,  I  watched  the  great- 
est miracle  that  man  can  witness — I  saw  life  playing  on 
a  beautiful  spirit. 

36.  "  Then  one  evening  I  found  her  alone.  I  played 
to  her  the  things  which  she  herself  had  felt  and  said,  for 
she  had  the  gift  which  some  simple-hearted  have  who 
distill  in  three  or  four  words  things  felt  most  deeply  by 
their  hearts." 

37.  Isadore  had  talked  as  though  he  were  playing  on 
the  violin,  as  if  this  memory  told  itself.  Then  he  paused, 
his  ugly  head  lighted  by  the  fire,  and  cried  out,  "  How  can 
I  forget  her  ?  The  first  true  music  that  I  ever  made  was 
only  her  interpretation. 

38.  "  I  played  for  her  that  night,  and  her  surprise  and 
pity  of  the  world  was  ready  to  pour  itself  forth  in  her 
tears  and  the  quickened  beating  of  her  heart.  I  saw  her 
soul  before  me  like  a  flame  shaken  by  the  wind.  And  when 
she  asked  me,  '  What  are  you  playing,  Isadore  ? '  I  an- 
swered, '  You,  Suzanne,'  and  neither  of  us  noticed  that  we 
had  used  each  other's  first  names. 

39.  "  There  was  something  so  yielding  and  beautiful 
in  her  abandon  to  my  music  that  I  got  up  and  went  away, 

most  likely  to  appear  crude  and  awkward.  It  is  especially  suitable, 
however,  for  statements  of  plot-embryo,  synopses,  and  scenarios 
(S.  S.  M,,  75:7),  and  is  the  only  form  adapted  for  moving- 
picture  action-plots  and  scenarios.  A  study  of  the  so-called  daily 
short  stories  supplied  by  the  syndicates  to  many  newspapers  will 
show  that  this  elementary  form  of  motivating  is  almost  their  sole 
dependence — a  fact  that  goes  far  to  account  for  their  barren 
crudity  and  general  lack  of  artistic  quality. 

36-38.  Study  the  interpretation  of  the  spirit  and  significance  of 
artistic  expression,  exemplified  here  in  music. 


552  Today's  Shout  Stories  Analyzed 

because  I  was  afraid  if  I  stayed  there  in  the  half  twilight, 
alone  with  the  uncloaked  flaming  soul  of  Suzanne  that  my 
music  called  to  me,  I  would  have  taken  her  in  my  arms. 

40.  "  I  had  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility.  I  knew  how 
uncertain  is  the  fortune  of  a  musician.  I  knew  what  a 
sundering  of  the  ties  of  family  would  mean  to  her. 
What  had  I  to  offer  her  but  love  ?  So  that  night  I  gave 
her  up. 

41.  "  I  meant  to  stay  away  and  never  see  her  again, 
but  I  could  not  sleep  at  night,  remembering  how  I  had 
played  upon  her  as  the  wind  w^ould  play  upon  the  strings 
of  a  violin  if  the  wind  w^ere  a  person.  Such  sweeping 
melodies  of  life  had  I  played  on  her  spirit!  I  never  since 
have  seen  anyone  who  felt  life  as  she  did,  who  responded 
so  to  its  high  beauty,  and  who  innerly  wept  at  the  great 
pity  of  things,  whose  indignation  at  injustice  flamed  so 
high.  How  could  I  help  thinking  of  these  things  ? 
Though  I  did  not  go  to  her,  I  played  to  her  every  time  I 
drew  my  bow  across  my  violin,  and  I  improvised  her  smile 
and  the  glance  of  her  eyes. 

42.  "  Though  I  kept  my  promise  to  myself,  I  wasn't 
strong  enough.  I  thirsted  for  the  sight  of  her.  I  ac- 
cepted an  engagement  to  play  at  a  place  she  might  visit, 
and  then  another  and  another.  The  first  time  she  saw  me 
she  came  toward  me ;  but  I  bowed  ceremoniously  and  with- 
out warmth,  while  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  heart  shut  so 
tight  that  it  squeezed  every  bit  of  blood  from  me. 

41.  Another  of  the  numerous  interpretations  of  the  artistic 
character  and  spirit  afforded  by  this  narrative.  The  susceptibility 
of  the  artist  to  emotion,  his  sensitiveness  to  meanings  that  may 
wholly  escape  the  duller-souled,  is  one  of  the  things  that  often 
win  him  the  contempt  of  the  ignorant  and  stupid.  (For  another 
angle  on  this,  ef.  "  The  Defective.") 


The  Gkeat  Gob  553 

43.  "  The  next  time  I  saw  her,  although  I  did  not  take 
a  step  toward  her,  my  eyes  plead  with  her,  and  she  came 
to  me,  first  slowly  and  shyly  and  hesitatingly,  and  then  at 
last,  in  a  little  run,  her  hands  outstretched,  and  she  said: 

44.  " '  Isadore,  where  have  you  been  ?  Are  you 
angry  ?  '  giving  herself  with  that  humility  which  is  so 
much  prouder  than  the  pride  that  waits. 

45.  "  Without  thinking  what  we  did,  we  left  the 
crowded  drawing-room  and  found  a  deserted  library,  and 
my  arms  were  around  her,  and  she  was  saying  to  me : 

46.  "  '  How  should  I  know  what  love  was  before  ? 
How  should  I  know  anything  about  it,  Isadore  ?  for  I 
have  never  loved  anyone  else  or  dreamed  of  anyone  else. 
But,  from  the  moment  I  saw  you  I  loved  you !  '  And  then 
she  said,  with  her  sweet  and  deep  reproach,  '  Oh,  why  did 
you  make  me  suffer  so  long  ? '  for  only  those  who  have 
felt  it  know  the  long  agony  that  two  weeks  of  doubt 
may  be. 

47.  "  '  How  could  I  have  known  ? '  was  all  that  I  could 
say.     '  How  could  I  have  known  that  you  could  care  the 


43.  An  admn-able  example  of  restraint,  otherwise  called  com- 
pression and  also  economy  of  detail  (S.  S.  M.,  66:17-18;  80:3). 
Restraint^ability  to  stop  when  enough  has  been  written — to 
avoid  "  slopping  over  "  and  excess  or  straining  for  effect  in  any 
form — is  the  quality  of  high  art.  It  will  be  found  fully  exempli- 
fied in  this  story.  In  what  other  stories  in  this  volume  have  you 
noted  it?  Why  is  such  simplicity  and  sparseness  of  detail  adapted 
to  the  present  narrative,  whereas  abundance  and  profusion  of 
detail  are  demanded  in  parts  of  stories  such  as  "  Tropics?" 

47.  Is  this  a  character-hint,  showing  us  that  Isadore  was  un- 
selfish in  his  love?  Do  you  judge  that  it  was  so  intended?  Is 
careful  consistency  in  character-creation  indicated  by  it  (cf.  par. 
23)  ?  To  what  extent  is  such  unity  of  charactei'-concept  essential 
to  plausibility?  to  unity  of  impression? 


55-i  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

way  that  I  cared  ?  Now  that  you  love  me,  life  will  be  a 
long,  long  strife  for  yon.  You  will  have  to  walk  to  me 
over  the  hearts  of  those  you  love!  You  will  have  to  take 
back  your  given  word  ! ' 

48.  "  '  I  know,'  she  said,  '  I  know ! '  But  she  was 
only  a  little  sad.  For  those  who  are  brave  the  inner  deci- 
sion is  the  great  cost,  and  she  had  that  high  gallantry 
given  to  so  few. 

49.  "  It  was  one  of  those  things  too  beautiful  to  last," 
he  said  again  after  a  pause,  his  brooding  eyes  looking  un- 
easily at  the  fire  as  his  spirit  traveled  back  over  the  years. 

50.  "  It  was  so  beautiful  that  w^e  felt  its  doom  as  one 
feels  the  doom  of  all  lovely  things.  Its  beauty  made  me 
shiver,  as  do  all  the  beautiful  things  in  nature,  davni, 
childhood,  the  tender  green  of  spring.  The  tragedy  of 
the  w^orld  is  the  evanescence  of  its  beauty. 

51.  "  Bloom  falls  from  the  trees  in  an  hour,  the  beauty 
of  women  changes  even  as  we  look  at  it :  nothing  remains. 
Herein  lies  the  greatness  of  art.  The  things  I  play  to 
you  are  beautiful  tomorrow,  and  when  I  am  dead  they 
will  still  be  beautiful.  Art  stays  for  a  moment  the  relent- 
less hand  of  time. 

52.  "  This  foreknowledge  of  ours  cast  a  shadow  on  our 
joy.  But  when  our  doom  came  knocking  at  the  door  we 
did  not  know  it. 


48.  Another  illustration  of  the  fact  that,  if  well  managed  and 
kept  ancillary,  direct  comment  on  life  is  possible  in  the  short- 
story.  In  this  and  similar  passages,  note  the  restraint  (see  par. 
43,  n.).  Note  further  how  the  simplicity  of  thought  and  language 
is  consistent  with  the  artistic  mind,  represented  in  Isadore  (see 
note  on  par.  11). 

52-60.  Here  is  a  splendid  opportunity  for  hectic  portrayal,  for 
strenuous  emotionalism.    Our  author  has  sensed  the  truer  artistic 


The  Great  God  555 

53.  "  First  we  heard  that  Suzanne's  brother  was  ill, 
but  he  had  always  been  ailing.  His  sickness  seemed  to 
have  no  bearing  on  our  love  for  one  another.  Then  there 
arrived  in  New  York  the  ailing  boy,  accompanied  by 
Kenneth  Gresham,  Suzanne's  fiance.  He  was  a  big,  kind- 
looking  man,  serene  and  blond.  The  old  grandmother 
also  accompanied  the  boy.  She  was  a  beautiful  granite 
rock  of  a  woman,  noble  and  austere,  but  the  boy  was  a 
frail  and  luminous  shadow  of  Suzanne,  the  sort  of  boy 
it  wrings  one's  heart  to  see  at  all  and  that  wrings  one's 
heart  doubly  to  see  in  pain. 

54.  "  Suzanne  sent  for  me  the  day  after  they  came, 
and  before  she  opened  her  mouth  I  knew  that  the  blow 
had  fallen,  for  she  had  that  look  of  exaltation  that  means 
one  has  suffered  to  the  other  side  of  pain  and  has  con- 
quered pain.  It  seems  that  Gresham  had  broken  the  news 
to  her  himself,  and  taken  her  tenderly  in  his  arms  while 
he  told  her  that  the  boy's  life  depended  on  an  operation 
that  would  have  to  be  followed  by  long  treatment  in  a  fitter 
climate. 

55.  "  '  It  would  be  better  if  we  were  married  right 
away,'  he  had  said. 

56.  "  The  whole  thing  seemed  a  matter  of  course  to 
her  family  and  she  let  them  believe  it  was  a  matter  of 
course  to  her  as  well ;  but  the  way  she  looked  at  me  told 
me  how  voluntary  was  her  choice  and  how  little  she  was 


means — simpHcity  and  restraint.  The  bravery,  completeness  and 
nobility  of  the  saci'ifice  sufficiently  emphasize  themselves  (S.  S.  M., 
66:17-18).  In  this  story  are  no  heroics  and  high-wrought  emo- 
tionalism ;  note  for  illustration  the  discipline  and  the  perspective 
indicated  by  Suzanne's  speech  in  par.  59  (this  is  quite  distinct 
from  the  fact  that  the  speech  turns  out  to  be  a  prophecy 
unawares). 


656  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

crowded  into  it  by  weakness.  The  joy  of  sacrifice  had 
been  denied  to  me  and  my  first  thought  was  for  her,  and 
I  cried  out,  '  You  can't  sell  yourself  even  for  your 
brother !  ' 

57.  "  '  Why  not  ?  '  she  said  with  her  head  up. 

58.  "  She  made  a  magnificent  spendthrift  gesture.  It 
was  as  if  she  tossed  the  lad  herself  as  lightly  as  she  might 
a  rose. 

59.  "  '  You  know,'  she  told  me,  '  in  some  ways  it  won't 
be  so  hard.  It's  life  the  way  it  might  have  been  before 
I  met  you.  I'll  have  to  make-believe  that  I  just  dreamed 
you.' 

60.  "  And  then  she  came  to  me  and  put  her  arms 
around  me  with  an  enfolding  gesture  as  though  she  wished 
to  shield  me  from  the  pain  that  she  herself  was  suffering, 
and  whispered  to  me  again  and  again,  '  Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear,  my  dear ! ' 

61.  "  It  was  as  though  this  little  whisper  was  the  noise 
of  the  bleeding  of  her  heart.  I  never  heard  any  other 
word  or  cry  elsewhere  so  poignant  as  that  whispered  '  My 
dear,'  and  even  now,  after  all  these  years  have  passed,  it 
comes  back  to  me  in  my  sleep. 

62.  "  After  all,  I  have  had  more  than  most  men  in  that 
I  began  my  life  on  an  episode  of  perfect  and  untarnished 
beauty.  Few  of  us  ever  see  perfection.  I  suffered,  but 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  my  suffering.  She  had  left  me 
no  alternative  but  to  be  the  best  thing  in  life  I  knew  how. 

63.  "  What  hurt  me  most  was  the  irony  of  becoming 
rich  within  two  years  after  her  great  sacrifice.  I  used  to 
rave  about  this  hopelessly.  So  for  ten  years  I  played  up 
and  down  Europe,  working  hard,  and  after  a  while  the 


62.    Can  fiction  give  us  spiritual  instruction  and  stimulus? 


The  Gkeat  God  657 

tragedy  left  only  the  afterglow  of  its  beauty.  I  had  many 
friendships  with  women,  but,  oh,  the  deep  delight  in  liv- 
ing that  she  had  given  me  never  came  to  me  again. 
JSTowhere  have  I  found  that  swift  flaming  pity  or  that 
swift  flaming  love.  I  have  tried  all  my  life  to  play  as 
poignantly  as  she  felt. 

64.  "  This  seems  to  you  to  have  very  little  bearing  on 
why  I  will  not  play  for  your  friends. 

65.  "  Wait.  My  real  tragedy  came  later.  Ten  years 
I  said  I  never  saw  her — but  I  saw  her  daily.  Neither 
time  nor  other  loves  had  dimmed  my  vision  of  her.  Only 
one  thing  could  do  that. 

66.  "  Now  listen  and  I  will  tell  you  how  I  lost 
Suzanne.  One  day  in  the  south  of  France  I  was  walking 
along  the  esplanade,  and  I  turned  around  to  find  Suzanne 
and  her  husband.  Her  husband  had  remained  as  I  re- 
membered him.  What  shall  I  tell  you  of  Suzanne?  She 
was  beautiful,  oh,  far  more  beautiful  than  as  a  girl,  as 
the  world  counts  things. 

67.  "  But  in  the  complacent  lines  of  her  face  and 
figure  there  remained  hardly  a  trace  of  the  thing  I  loved. 
There  was  no  fire,  the  radiance  had  gone.  She  was  sleek, 
silken,  beautiful. 

68.  "  She  had  always  responded  to  life.  Life  ebbed 
and  flowed  through  her  as  through  no  one  else,  and  the 
life  she  had  lived,  the  soft  life,  the  easy  life,  the  life  the 
women  of  your  world  live,  had  killed  the  girl  whose  heart 
had  vibrated  like  the  string  of  a  violin  under  a  master's 
hand. 

69.  "  This  much  I  saw  at  once.  They  asked  me  to 
come  and  see  them.     I   could  not  sleep  that  night.     I 


558  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

thought  that  alone  with  her  I  should  find  some  trace  of 
the  Suzanne  I  had  loved,  dimmed  perhaps,  but  beau- 
tiful. 

70.  "  She  was  w^aiting  for  me  on  the  terrace,  a  beau- 
tiful, finished  thing.  She  wore  her  clothes  with  a  grand 
air,  her  skin  had  the  quality  of  some  soft  milky  jewel, 
that  over-cared-for  quality  that  I  have  come  to  loathe  more 
than  any  artificiality.  Life  had  been  so  soft  and  so  kind 
to  her  flesh  that  her  spirit  had  withered  and  died.  She 
had  kept  many  lovely  things,  her  innocent  gaze,  her  sim- 
plicity of  manner,  but  the  deadening  terms  on  which  such 
women  as  she  live  had  erased  the  deep  reality  of  her  love 
and  the  pain  of  her  renunciation.  We  talked  of  this  and 
that.     Then  she  said  to  me: 

71.  "  '  What  romantic  children  we  were !  '  An  indul- 
gent smile  was  all  that  life  had  let  her  keep  of  herself. 
Then  she  asked  me: 

72.  "  '  I  suppose  I  have  changed  very  much  ? ' 

73.  "  There  was  a  trace  of  complacent  coquetry  as  she 
said  this  that  was  horrible  to  me.  She  knew  she  was  more 
beautiful,  but  what  hurt  me  most,  I  think,  was  that  she 
had  not  kept,  as  even  the  most  hardened  men  sometimes 
keep,  the  vision  of  her  own  lost  youth.  There  are  very 
few  men  who  are  not  visited  at  times  by  the  boy  they  once 
were,  who  sits  beside  them  and  asks  for  an  account  of  the 
ideals  they  once  so  deeply  cherished.  But  Suzanne  had 
no  such  visitors  to  trouble  her  tranquillity. 

74.  "  She  said,  I  remember — how  often  I  have  heard 
the  words ! — '  I'm  getting  a  little  too  fat,  I  think.'  She 
said  it  contemplatively  but  seriously,  as  though  keeping 
her  body  to  a  certain  standard  was  her  life  work. 

75.  "  Silence  fell  on  us.     In  front  the  Mediterranean 


The  Great  God  559 

spread  its  sheet  of  inconceivable  blue  to  the  horizon,  and, 
behind,  the  mountains  climbed  skyward.  We  could  see 
a  little  town  far  up  on  the  hillside  that  looked  as  though 
a  handful  of  plaster  had  been  flung  on  the  sheer  side  of 
the  rock.  The  roses  were  in  full  bloom  around  the  ter- 
race. At  the  far  end  Gresham  and  a  young  girl  were 
walking  up  and  down.  She  was  a  cousin  of  Suzanne's 
and  she  had  a  darting  look  swift  as  a  bird's  flight,  who 
seemed  more  like  Suzanne  than  Suzanne  herself.  Suzanne 
watched  them  with  a  speculative  and  uneasy  glance.  The 
activities  of  life  had  kept  him  young,  and  he  had  loved 
the  flaming  thing  she  had  been.  He  was  the  more  faithful 
to  her  that  the  flame  still  called  to  him.  They  came 
toward  her. 

76.  "  '  You're  coming  this  afternoon,  aren't  you,  Su- 
zanne ? '  he  said  after  he  greeted  me.  '  Won't  you  join 
us?' 

77.  "  '  Can  one  go  by  the  carriage  road  ?  Couldn't  I 
drive  up  and  meet  you  ? '  She  smiled  up  at  me.  '  I  don't 
like  these  interminable  rough  solitos.' 

78.  "  Her  husband  hung  over  her.  It  was  as  though 
he  were  pleading  mutely :  '  Come  with  me.  Come  forth 
from  your  sleep.     I  have  need  of  you.' 

79.  "  She  half  consented,  and  then  the  habit  of  com- 
fort and  indulgence  overcame  her. 

80.  "  '  Go  without  me,'  she  said,  and  I,  since  I  loved 
the  memory  of  her,  realized  that  this  was  the  true  moment 
of  her  soul's  defeat,  since  she  could  let  those  she  loved 
go  hungry  rather  than  disturb  her  comfortable  sleek  body, 
go  hungry  until  they  found  a  way  of  feeding  their  souls, 
without  her, — and  than  this  there  is  no  greater  spiritual 
defeat  for  a  woman. 


560  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

81.  ''  Comfort  and  security  and  the  monotony  of  bcr 
sheltered  life  had  done  their  blighting  work  upon  her. 
There  she  sat,  beautiful,  silken,  sleek  like  your  women  in 
the  opera,  like  the  women  I  see,  slave  to  the  Great  God 
Comfort,  the  overthrower  of  empires  who  is  stronger  than 
love.  This  is  what  makes  me  hate  your  world,  your  world 
that  destroys  your  women  from  want  on  the  one  hand  and 
with  plenty  on  the  other." 


81.  In  your  judgment,  is  this  paragraph  neeessai'y  to  complete 
the  application  of  the  plot-facts  to  the  theme  and  effectively  round 
out  the  story?  Is  there  at  this  point  any  feeling  of  a  didactic 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  author,  or  does  the  momentum  and 
interest  of  Isadore's  narrative  successfully  can'y  us  through  what 
corresponds  in  form  to  the  "  conclusion "  prescribed  by  the 
rhetorics  in  the  "outlines"  they  require?  What  saves  the  para- 
graph from  such  flatness?  Does  the  style  help?  Does  the  fact 
that  it  carries  us  back  in  thought  to  details  that  were — tempo- 
rarily— prominent  at  the  opening  of  the  story,  similarly  help  to 
sustain  interest  in  this  ending  paragraph?  Is  this  recalling  of 
these  details  necessary  for  the  sake  of  coherence — to  "  bind  "  the 
framework,  as  carpenters  express  it?  Finally,  is  a  slight  letting- 
down  of  emotional  or  other  intensity  sometimes  desirable  at  the 
end? 


TROPICS 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  As  indicated  by  the  title,  "  Tropics  "  is  strongly  an 
atmosphere  story.  The  atmosphere  is  largely  produced 
through  local  color,  especially  that  of  physical  environ- 
ment ;  S.  S.  M.,  54-70.  The  second  atmosphere  quality 
(S.  S.  M.,  56,  n.),  mood,  is  partly  that  of  strangeness,  iso- 
lation, and  romance,  partly  that  of  activity  and  of  strug- 
gle against  the  conditions  and  spirit  of  the  environment. 
The  protagonist  is  the  White  Man,  represented  in  Wake- 
man  (with  Faulkner  in  the  background)  ;  the  antagonist 
is  partly  the  semi-savage  (represented  in  mass  by  the 
Panamanians  of  the  barrio),  but  mainly  tropical  environ- 
ment. Temperament  and  personality  in  Wakeman  and 
the  conditions  of  native  life  are  contributing  elements, 
though  of  social  characterization  (S.  S.  M.,  257)  there  is 
a  less  amount. 

2.  Considered  with  reference  to  its  persons,  the  story 
is  "the  epic  of  Wakeman's  life"  (par.  239).  I^ot  only 
is  Wakeman  the  central,  unifying  person;  he  practically 
is  the  story,  so  far  as  action  is  concerned.  Faulkner  ap- 
pears as  the  agent  of  the  generating  circumstance  when 
he  brings,  to  Wakeman,  the  demand  of  civilization  for 
struggle,  but  thereafter  he  is  merely  a  contributing  per- 
son, aside  only  from  the  fact  that  his  acquaintance  with 
Wakeman's  struggle  qualifies  him  to  tell  Wakeman's  his- 
tory.— Consider  whether  the  conception  of  a  short  piece 
of  fiction  as  an  epic  tends  for  or  against  strict  unity,  or 

561 


562  Today's  Shokt  Stories  Analyzed 

whether  it  tends  toward  a  connected  series  of  episodes. 
Does  the  present  story  meet  the  theoretical  requirement 
explained  in  S.  S.  M.,  16:2-5 — does  it  consist  mainly 
of  the  climactic  scene  and  situation  ?  To  what  extent  is 
the  panoramic  presentation  of  environment  (evidently  in- 
cluded in  tlie  author's  purpose)  responsible  for  the  space 
allowed  to  the  ancillary  episodes,  and  are  they  thus  given 
an  importance  that  interferes  with  the  structure  mentioned 
in  S.  S.M.,  16:2-5? 

3.  Strictly,  the  narrator's  angle  (S.  S.  M.,  138,  143- 
141:)  is  that  of  a  person  (Faulkner)  having  part  in  the 
story.  Practically,  however,  the  narration  proceeds  from 
the  "  omniscient "  viewpoint  of  the  author.  Faulkner's 
account  runs  quite  as  would  that  of  the  author  writing 
wholly  from  the  impersonal  third-person  point  of  view. 
That  Faulkner  should  know  all  these  details  of  Wakeman's 
struggle  is  made  plausible  by  his  repeated  appearance  in 
the  story,  since  we  assume — without  being  told — that 
Wakeman  related  them  to  him.  The  management  in  this 
is  worth  noting,  as  adopting  the  angle  of  a  participant  not 
infrequently  makes  awkward  the  introduction  of  facts 
about  which  the  narrator  could  have  no  personal  knowl- 
edge ;  in  some  way  his  knowledge  of  them  has  to  be  plausi- 
bly explained. 

4.  The  style  is  notable  for  the  presence  of  many  epi- 
thets— color  words,  sound  words,  action  words.  These  are 
often  vividly  and  boldly  descriptive  and  realistic,  and  their 
vividness  and  boldness  are  heightened  by  "  nervous," 
forceful,  broken  sentence-form.  Attention  will  be  called 
to  some  such  passages  in  the  notes,  but  the  student  can 
profitably  make  a  more  detailed  study  of  the  descriptive 
means  employed.     It  is  mainly  through  these  that  the 


Tkopics  563 

atmosphere  is  "  got  over."  Especially  it  is  the  abundance 
of  them,  without  repetition,  that  conveys  the  suggestion 
of  the  opulence,  prodigality,  and  luxuriance  of  the  tropical 
environment  and  setting.  (The  student  may,  however,  in- 
quire whether  there  is  not  a  certain  straining  for  effect  that 
would  be  manifest  were  it  not  for  the  rapidity  of  the  nar- 
ration and  the  quick  powerful  way  in  which  the  words 
strike  the  attention — whether  the  volleys  of  them  and 
their  sudden,  novel  vividness  and  realism  have  not  a  re- 
sult like  the  striking  of  high-powered  bullets,  which  at  first 
produce  no  impression  but  that  of  the  blow,  the  full  reali- 
zation of  the  facts  coming  later.  Occasional  expressions, 
at  least,  seem  artificially  forcible.  l^ote  some  instances 
of  this.) 

5.  The  student  is  advised  to  make  a  careful  examina- 
tion to  determine  the  relative  proportions  of  the  four  basic 
elements  present  in  this  story — plot,  theme,  character,  and 
atmosphere  (S.  S.  M.,  54:1). — The  aim  of  this  study 
should  be,  to  form  a  conclusion  on  the  question,  to  how 
great  an  extent  can  any  of  these  elements  be  minimized 
without  affecting  more  or  less  adversely  the  satisfying 
impression  left  with  us  by  the  story  as  a  whole  ?  More 
specifically :  Are  the  plot  incidents  of  the  present  story  suf- 
ficient to  carry  the  large  amount  of  concentrative  material 
introduced  (S.  S.  M.,  107:30-39),  or  are  they  obscured 
by  the  intensifying  matter  ?  Are  the  stages  of  the  plot — 
rising  action,  decisive  moment,  climactic  height — ade- 
quately felt,  or  is  the  development  (especially  through  the 
rising  action)  more  a  series  of  successive  incidents  such  as 
characterize  the  tale  (S.  S.  M.,  pp.  8-15)  than  it  is  close- 
wrought  in  the  strict  sense?  If  so,  is  there  any  way  by 
which;,  without  sacrificing  other  things  equally  important 


564:  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

in  bis  purpose,  the  author  could  emphasize  the  quality  of 
dramatic  plot  ?  Is  there  any  lack  of  satisfying  character- 
portrayal  (S.  S.  M.,  pp.  43-54;  208:  2-4)  ?  If  so,  could 
the  amount  of  individual  characterization  be  increased 
(and  how)  ?  It  may  be  well  to  extend  this  examination 
to  other  stories  included  in  the  volume ;  for  instance,  "  The 
Cat  and  the  Fiddle,"  "  The  Love  of  Men,"  "  Miss  Mitty," 
"  The  Defective,"  "  Little  Sunbeam,"  "  A  Quiet  Life  or 
Life  on  the  Quiet,"  et  al.  (These  questions  are  put  to  sug- 
gest profitable  inquiries  by  the  student  toward  a  thorough 
understanding  of  the  short  story  in  general,  and  not  to 
convey  a  criticism  one  way  or  the  other  upon  this  story.) 


TROPICS  * 

By  Pateick  Casey 

Reprinted    from    "Adventure,"   December,    1913,    by    Permission    of 

the   Editors   and   the  Author. 

(Copyrighted,  1913,  by  the  Ridgway  Company) 

1.  His  was  the  same  old  story,  drawled  Faulkner/  The 
heat,  the  consuming  passions  of  the  tropics,  got  him. 
Around  with  the  broiling  Line  and  back  again,  it's  the 
same.  You  know.  Love,  free  unhampered  love  in  the 
moist  warmth  beneath  the  palms.  Bamboo  huts  where  a 
white  is  king ;  a  cooing  maiden,  part  savage,  more  child ; 
cocoanuts,  bananas,  yams ;  visions  of  bliss  and  eternal 
dozing,  dozing 

2.  His  voice  droned  off  into  silence.  We  hunched  our 
chairs  closer.^  Faulkner  had  first-hand  knowledge.  He 
had  known  the  man.     The  ebb  and  flow  of  our  cigarette- 


1-2.  The  immediate  beginning  is  worth  observing.  Writers 
using  the  told-by-a-participant  angle  of  narration  frequently  take 
unnecessary  time  in  getting  to  the  narrative.  Cf .  the  beginning  of 
"  The  Love  of  Men." — Observe  how  the  tone  of  intense  nervous 
activity  is  struck  at  once  in  the  abrupt  words  and  sentences  (but 
see  n.  on  13). — What  does  the  story  gain  by  having  the  scene 
of  its  telUng  placed  in  Panama?  Would  there  be  a  loss  in  unity 
of  tone  were  it  told  in  Montreal? 

*  Through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Casey,  a  copy  of  the  original  manuscript 
was  proviflv^d,  making  it  possible  to  reprint  his  story  with  clear  indication 
of  the  changes  owed  to  editorial  revision  before  its  magazine  publication. 
The  variant  readings  appear  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  with  index-flgures 
in  the  text  indicating  the  place  in  the  sentences  or  paragraphs  where  the 
omitted  or  altered  passages  stood. 

'  MS  :  his  rich  tones  splitting  tho  silence  lilto  electric  sparks. 
2  MS :  The  story  was  as  enthralling  as  it  was  world  old.    And 

565 


566  Today's  Siioet  Stories  Analyzed 

ends  danced  in  the  restless  dark  like  the  pinpoint  blurs  of 
the  city  of  Panama  below.     Faulkner  began  again : 

3.  Wakeman  was  one  of  life's  flotsam.  All  his  years 
he  had  skimmed  along  the  upper  crust.  I  met  him  first 
in  'Frisco.  Pie  was  a  mining  engineer  brimming  with 
visions  of  the  future  gold-mines  of  Colombia. 

4.  He  was  from  the  South.  Swell  family.^  He  had 
the  look  of  it.  He  was  tall,  slim-waisted,  broad-shouldered, 
haughty-featured.^  Physically  and  morally,  to  look  at  him, 
a  strong  man.  He  had  pulled  stroke  on  the  Cornell  eight. 
But  somewhere  in  the  liquidity  of  his  big  brown  eyes 
floated  Romance.  That  was  '  the  weakness.  I  did  not  see 
it,  then.    He  was  going  south,  pursued  by  his  dreams. 

5.  The  years  rolled  into  each  other.*  I  was  appointed 
a  sanitary  inspector  under  Colonel  Gorgas  down  on  the 
Canal.  We  wiped  out  the  mosquitoes  and  the  flies  and  the 
rats,  bubonic  plague,  typhoid,  malarial  and  yellow  fever 
from  Colon  and  Panama.  We  dosed  everybody  with  ra- 
tions of  quinin.^ 

3-4.  On  initial  characterization,  see  S.  S.  M.,  163 :  18-19.  Note 
the  forecast  contained  in  the  sentences  that  refer  to  Romance; 
they  motivate  the  degradation  in  which  Wakeman  is  later  found. 
Look  for  other  mention  of  his  weakness.  Is  motivation  adequate, 
though  so  limited? 

5  ff .  A  double  function :  to  create  feeling  of  passage  of  time, 
and  acquaint  us  with  determining  conditions  of  the  action.  Ob- 
serve how  this  passes  on,  from  the  end  of  par.  6  through  7  to 
8-12,  into  preliminary  indication  of  setting  and  environment. — 
'  Study  the  effect  of  these  words  in  producing  a  strong  impression 
of  unwholesomeness. — '  Study  these  woi-ds  as  impression-makers; 

^  MS  :  — broad  acres,  statesmen,  aristocrats  even  before  the  Revolution. 

^MS:  His  weaith  of  black  hair  waved,  like  a  patrician's,  back  from  a 
high  white  forehead. 

'  MS  :   the  blight,   the   weakness. 

*  MS  :  and   flitted  by. 

"  MS  :  We  Installed  reservoirs,  fresh  water  systems,  mosquito  screens, 
public  garbage  furnaces — all  manner  of  sanitary  improvements  at  both 
ends  of  wliat  is  the  world's  greatest  engineering  feat. 


Teopics  567 

6.  The  newspapers  at  home  were  clamoring.  ISTo  dirt 
was  flying  on  the  Big  Ditch.  But  we  had  yellow-jack  and 
typhoid  and  malaria  the  length  of  the  Zone  to  get  under 
control.  Gorgas  organized  his  anti-mosquito  corps.  I  was 
delegated  to  the  ''  Stegomyia  Brigade."  Yellow  fever  was 
to  be  mine  enemy. 

7.  I  was  stationed  at  Bas  Obispo  in  the  evil  entrails  ^  of 
the  Zone  where  the  Chagres  swerves.  Word  seeped  down 
to  us  that  up  the  river  a  few  miles  a  native  village  was  in 
the  throes  of  the  Black  Vomit.  It  was  off  the  beaten  track 
where  white  foot  had  seldom  trod.  I  decided  to  investi- 
gate and,  if  the  reports  were  founded,  to  put  the  barrio 
under  quarantine. 

8.  I  was  proud  in  those  days  of  the  brass  cross  on  the 
collar  of  my  khaki  jacket.  All  the  tortuous  ^  passage  up 
the  dismally  ^  embowered^  stream  I  stood  in  the  bow  of  the 
cayuca  and  searched  with  my  eyes  the  banking  walls  ^  of 
morbidly  ^  bright-colored  ^  jungle-foliage.  The  air  beneath 
was  dank  ^  with  steam  and  rancid  ^  with  vegetable  odors 
that  weighed  like  a  load  on  the  lungs.^  The  ^  banks  were 
bloody  cesspools  ^  of  red  clay.  Back  of  them  great  coleus- 
plants,  arching  ferns,  cannas,  and  wonderful  orchids 
splashed  the  eyes  with  the  tints  of  the  rainbow.^  Over  all, 
in  the  stagnant  ^  heat,  draggled  ^  the  heavy  fronds  of 
cocoanut-palms. 

9.  The  yellow  ^  stream  took  a  bend.  It  flowed,  deep  and 
sluggish  ^  under  the  lattice-work  ^  of  foliage.    The  prow  of 

they  are  among  the  descriptive  epithets  already  mentioned. 
In  the  abundance  of  such  words,  this  story  reminds  one  of 
Chateaubriand's  pseudo-florid,  pseudo-poetical  descriptions;  but 
the  style  is  more  abrupt  and  nervous,  and  the  method  essentially 
more  "  realistic." 

*MS:  flat  banks 


568  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

the  cayuca  cracked  "  through  a  myriad  of  tiny  floating  sub- 
stances. They  were  minute  eggs — hundreds,  thousands  of 
them.  Some  bobbed  about  singly,  but  most  of  them  were 
glued  buoyantly  ^'  together,  like  a  frog's  with  a  thin  paste- 
like matter.  They  were  the  eggs  of  disease-breeding  mos- 
quitoes.    We  were  approaching  the  empested  village. 

10.  Mosquitoes  struck  ^  us  in  swarms.  On  they  would 
come,  thin  black  clouds  in  the  shimmering  ^  humidity,  and 
strike  like  clammy  ^  hands  our  exposed  arms  and  faces.  I 
pulled  my  Stetson  down  over  my  eyes  and,  despite  the 
reeking  ^  closeness,  buttoned  the  top  of  my  jacket  to  my 
neck.  I  dosed  my  cargadores  with  quinin.  I  swallowed 
eleven  ^  grains  myself.  My  system  was  hardened  to  the 
drug.* 

11.  I  broached  a  cask  of  crude  oil  and  allowed  it  to 
gluck-gluck  ~  over  the  egg-strewn  surface.  A  greasy  scum 
like  blackish  seaweed  spread  in  our  wake.  That  would 
prove  death  to  the  larvae  in  the  eggs.  When  they  rose  to 
the  top  to  breathe,  not  life  but  destruction  would  be  drawn 
into  their  bodies.  The  thick  greasy  oil  would  burn  like 
molten  lead  ^  down  their  breathing-tubes. 

12.  A  clearing  broke  out  ^  on  the  right-hand  bank  and 
stretched  damply  ^  back,  for  fully  an  acre,  into  the  shad- 
ows of  the  palms.  There  were  eighteen  huts,  bamboo- 
walled  and  grass-thatched.  It  was  known  as  San  Juan 
Bautista.    When  I  left  that  day,  there  were  seventeen  huts.^ 

'  MS  :  some  thirty 

*  MS  :  I  took  from  the  stores  an  iron  disinfecting  pan.  From  the  leafy 
arcade,  man-high  above,  I  shoolj  into  it,  in  passing,  some  dead  foliage. 
I  placed  some  chloride  upon  this  and  touched  a  match  to  it.  The  mos- 
quitoes dropped,  lilce  swatted  flies,  through  the  suffocating  greenish  gas. 
Looiiing  baclv,  I  could  see  the  smoke  clinging  in  jade  clouds  to  the  scummy 
surface   of   the   water. 

Leaving  a  cargadore  to  hold  the  smoking  pan, 

°  MS  :  The  Lout  Barrio.  After  eight  years  of  concealment  beneath  an 
interlaced  mass  of  lush  and  creepers  and  ferns  and  trees,  our  engineers 
unearthed  it  last  week. 


Teopics  569 

13.  A  khaki-clad  American  policeman  paused  below  us 
in  the  street  in  a  shaft  of  light  from  the  Government  hotel, 
and  fanned  himself  with  his  broad  Baden-Powell.  Some- 
one on  the  veranda  scratched  a  match.  It  was  as  if  a 
calloused  finger  had  rubbed  down  the  length  of  an  exposed 
nerve  of  us.  There  was,  in  the  dark,  a  vexed  readjust- 
ment of  sitting  postures.     Then  Faulkner  drawled  on: 

14.  About  the  harrio  was  no  sign  of  life.  The  smooth, 
round  stones  that  take  the  place  of  wash-boards,  the  rough 
knotty  clothes-paddles  were  lying  half-submerged  in  the 
steaming  silt,  and  no  bronze-skinned  Panamanian  women 
squatted,  chattering  like  monkeys,  in  the  red  clay.  The 
ashes  were  gray  in  the  rude  outdoor  fireplaces.  There 
were  no  naked,  staring,  kinky-haired  babies  rolling  in  the 
grassy  ways;  no  muffied  crushing  of  maize  before  the 
doorways;  no  swack  of  machete  among  the  cocoanut-tufts. 
ISTo  movement,  no  sound,  save  only  the  monotonous  drone 
of  the  clouds  ®  of  mosquitoes  that  rose  and  settled  in  the 
dead  air  and  flew  back  and  forth.'^ 


13.  This  paragraph  contributes  to  the  mood  and  tone  effect  of 
the  narration,  and  therefore  justifies  its  interruption  of  the  speak- 
er's narrative.  The  place  of  the  story-telUng,  Hke  the  events  of 
the  story,  is  tropical,  and  the  tropical  is  presented  as  morbid  and 
nerve-ti'ying. — Note  that  again  Faulkner  is  represented  as  drawl- 
ing; but  notice  the  further  characterization  of  his  speech  in  the 
simile  edited  out  of  par.  1.  Keep  this  in  mind  in  realizing  the 
effect  of  his  abrupt,  incomplete  manner  of  speech.  Do  the  two 
go  well  together?  (The  drawling  speech,  but  for  the  lost  simile, 
would  represent  another  characteristic  of  the  environment — slow- 
ness and  inertness  in  human  life  under  tropical  conditions.) 

14.  Local  color  ( amounting  to  description  of  conditions  of  life ; 
i.e.,  social  characterization),  setting,  and  atmosphere  are  all  pre- 

«  MS  :  swarms 
T  MS  :  in  clouds. 


570  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

15.  Pestilence  was  heavy  in  the  superheat.  At  each 
breath  the  stagnant  air  seemed  to  shrivel  my  lungs.  Swish- 
ing and  snapping  with  noise  monstrous  in  the  festering 
quietude,  we  shot  through  the  eggs  and  the  out-reaching 
ferns  and  lianas  and  reeds,  and  banked  on  the  red  clay. 
An  alligator,  disturbed  from  its  coma  beneath  the  trailing 
growths,  slid  with  a  splash  into  the  water.  A  baby 
squealed  gaspingly;  choked  off;  and  all  was  still. 

16.  I  leaped  out.  A  crescendo  of  grunts  arose  from 
one  side,  one  weirdly  higher  than  the  other.  A  half  dozen 
ring-tailed  pigs  came  nosing  in  the  clay.  In  the  stinging 
sunlight  a  man  had  lifted  himself  from  a  supine  ^  position 
on  the  rude  bench  before  a  hut.  He  stood  shading  his 
eyes,  looking  at  us. 

17.  From  head  to  foot,  my  eyes  took  in  that  man — 
the  interwoven  mass  of  curly  black  hair,  the  smut  of  beard, 

sented  through  the  same  set  of  details  (economy  of  detail). 
Observe  the  employment  hei-e  of  the  deprivative  "  no  "  with  the 
catalogTie  of  characteristic  details,  to  effect  the  sense  of  atmos- 
phere. The  "  no  "  creates  the  effect  of  contrast  with  what  is  the 
usual  state  of  things. 

15.  Part  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  story  is  that  of  suspense — a 
sense  of  puny  man  facing  an  environment  strange,  unreal,  and 
powerful,  over  which  his  control  is  never  sure.  The  sense  of 
this  is  conveyed  in  passages  such  as  this  paragraph. — Study  the 
effect-producing  words  as  in  pars.  7-12. 

16.  In  this  story,  whenever  man  appears  in  action  toward  a 
definite  purpose,  the  sense  of  reality  is  present.  In  this  fact  lies 
the  power  of  the  story  to  convey  subconsciously  the  feeling  of 
human  adequacy.  Pars.  15  and  16  therefore  present  opposed 
forces — nature  in  the  tropics,  and  man.  We  are  scarcely  war- 
ranted in  assuming  that  the  author  planned  this;  but  he  has  so 
created  that  the  fact  is  observable.  So  throughout  the  story. — 
'  How  does  the  word  "  supine  "  agree  with  and  help  to  emphasize 
one  of  the  atmosphere  elements  implied  in  the  title? 

17.  See  again  S.  S,  M.,  163-164;  see  also  181:5.     Detenmne 


Tkopics  571 

the  makeshift  shirt  open  at  the  neck,  the  greasy  trousers — 
once  brown  khaki — rolled  up  to  the  knees,  the  bare  feet. 
I  could  have  sworn  the  eyes  beneath  the  cupped  hand  were 
brown. 

18.  "  Hello,  Wake,"  I  said. 

19.  He  greeted  me  in  his  languorous  drawl  with  my 
name. 

20.  "  Glad  you  remember  me,"  he  ended. 

21.  "  Remember  you !  "  I  blurted.  "  Why,  man,  what 
about  the  mines  in  Colombia?  What  the  deuce  are  you 
doing  here  ?  " 

22.  His  lip  trembled. 

23.  "  I'm  happy,"  he  said. 

24.  He  slumped  back  upon  the  bench  and  fingered  a 
freshly  cut  stack  of  cocoanuts  alongside.  Conversation 
was  not  solicited.  My  questions  disturbed  him,  I  saw,  like 
the  drone  of  a  mosquito. 

25.  Single-handed,  I  went  through  the  dying  village. 
You  know  the  horrors.  There  was  everything  there,  ma- 
laria and  typhoid  and  the  [hideous]^  jack.®  Five  were 
dead — one,  a  naked  whitish  baby  at  the  breast  of  its  child- 
mother,  a  pitiful  little  black-eyed  thing.  The  infant's 
eyes  were  staring  open,  its  face  wrinkled  as  a  hag's. 


what  details  and  words  convey  realization  of  the  man's  character 
at  this  period. 

23.  Would  there  be  gain  or  loss  if  the  chain  of  ideas  producing 
this  apparently  irrelevant  answer  were  explained  by  the  author? 

25-28.  In  keeping  with  the  more  general  description  earlier  in 
the  story,  but  now  specifically  laying  the  foundation  for  the  part 

*  "  hideous  "  :  not  in  MS. 

'  MS :    Some    had    only    a    touch    of    pneumonia.  But    most — oh,    the 

hideous  yellowness  of  skins,  the  sweats,  the  deathly  stupors,  the  piteous 
febrile  deliriums,  the  blaclt  discharges !     Awful. 


5Y2  Today's  Short  Stokies  Analyzed 

26.  I  did  what  I  could.  I  carried  out  the  dead  to  the 
red  clay  bank.^°  I  buried  a  litter  of  unwashed  sweat-stiff- 
ened rags  and  clothing.  I  gathered  the  refuse  in  a  pile 
and  burned  it.  I  heaped  chlorin  ^^  into  the  flames.  I  ran 
with  the  iron  fnniigating-pan  back  through  the  huts.  I 
threw  carbolic,  strong  ammonia,  chlorid  of  lime  about  in- 
discriminately. According  to  the  stage  of  the  diseases  and 
the  strength  of  the  sufferers,  I  doled  out  grain  after  grain 
of  quinin.^^ 

27.  All  the  frantic  time,  from  the  bench  Wakeman 
watched  us  with  his  indolent  brown  eyes.  He  made  no 
move  to  aid.  I  thought  him  sick.  When  I  came  to  his 
hut,  I  found  it  one  of  the  few  exempt  from  disease. 

28.  It  was  not  because  it  was  more  sanitary  than  the 
other  hovels.  It  wasn't.  It  was  just  as  bad.  Worse,  for 
a  white  man  lived  there. 

29.  He  arose  as  we  approached  and  slouched  with  us 
inside.  There  was  a  Panamanian  woman  within.  Ah, 
she  was  a  woman !  You  know  the  kind — part  Spanish, 
part  negro,  part  Indian.  But  this  one  was  beautiful. 
Nothing  less.  A  golden-bosomed  figure  with  large,  swim- 
ming eyes  of  the  blackness  of  the  deeps  of  the  morass  and 
hair  that  undulated  in  jet  tresses  down  her  back.  She 
wore  a  loose  low-cut  cincture  "  and  short  cotton  skirt.    But 


that  is  to  be  forced  on  Wakeman.  The  preceding  description  is 
now  seen  to  be  preliminary  exposition  that  motivates  this  further 
exposition ;  S.  S.  M.,  79-85. 

29-30.    Study  the  method  of  description.    No  matter-of-fact  de- 
tails— height,  features,  etc. — are  given;  concrete  details  are  just 

•"  MS  :  I  emptied  the  stagnant  rain  barrels,  with  their  breeding  scum, 
into  the  river.  I  broached  a  breaker  of  distilled  water  we  had  brought 
with  us  and  left  it  in  a  dry  shady  place,  screened  with  mosquito-netting. 

"  MS  :  chloride 

•='MS:  I  administered,  to  the  most  painfully  stricken,  soothing  chloro- 
dyne. 

*^  MS  :  cinctura 


Tropics  573 

unlike  the  other  women,  her  hair  was  not  bound  up  by  a 
gaudy  bandanna.     Perhaps  he  had  not  liked  that  custom. 

30.  She  had  a  manner,  that  child.  The  while  we  went 
through  the  squalor,  the  untidiness,  the  terrible  sordidness 
of  the  den,  she  clung  to  his  arm  and  watched  with  her 
jungle-black  eyes  his  fine-chiseled  face.  She  seemed  to 
think  we  were  going  to  drive  them  out.  In  soft  tones  of 
anxiety  she  cooed  up  at  him.  He  answered  gently  and 
patted  her  crown  of  hair. 

31.  Every  action  of  them  was  a  surprising  shock  to 
me.  For  the  first  time,  as  he  replied  to  her,  I  saw  the 
romance  floating  in  his  eyes.  Wakeman  was,  for  all  his 
face,  as  much  of  a  dreamer  as  any  Panamanian  who  ever 
dozed  life  away  in  the  moist  warmth  of  the  jungle.  The 
miserable  medley  of  love  and  the  tropics  had  wooed  and 
won  him  with  its  vampire  charm.  As  for  the  child,  all 
she  knew  was  that  she  loved  this  mooded  mortal  of  civili- 
zation. 


enough  to  give  a  vivid  impression  (suggestive  or  impressionistic 
description).  Study  also  the  impression-words.  The  absent  ban- 
danna is  one  of  the  details  that  intimate  persistence  in  Wakeman 
of  old  standards.  The  need  of  indicating  this  persistence  accounts 
for  the  idealization  of  the  woman;  had  she  been  an  ordinary 
wench,  we  should  feel  that  there  is  little  left  of  Wakeman's  char- 
acter to  respond  to  Faulkner's  appeal.  But  she  is  in  character 
(we  find  presently)  as  in  outward  appearance  a  "golden" 
woman,  and  in  her  beauty  and  the  love  between  the  two  lies  a 
redeeming  fact  that  helps  to  make  believable  the  character-revival 
in  him — the  flaring  up  briefly  of  his  white-man's  spirit. 

31.  The  reference  to  romance  (par.  4)  is  now  given  specific 
application.  It  is  the  determining  character-trait  (at  least  in  his 
immediate  past)  of  the  central  person,  and  is  still  strong  in  him 
at  the  end  (cf.  par.  236).  See  S.  S.  M.,  211:4.  Consider  that 
although  it  is  not  prominent  in  the  body  of  the  story,  it  is  in- 


574  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

32.  I  asked  Wake  if  he  and  his  jungle  wife  would  take 
into  their  hut  and  care  for  the  pitiful  little  child-mother 
of  the  baby.  She  was  down  with  pneumonia.  Her  hus- 
band, with  five  other  natives,  had  deserted  both  herself 
and  the  village  at  the  first  signs  of  the  outbreak.  She 
might,  with  nursing,  pull  through  without  contracting  a 
worse  disease.  I  emphasized  how  fortunate  he  was  in  that 
barrio  of  ruthless  death. 

33.  He  bent  over  his  mate  and  chattered  softly.  At 
her  answer  he  nodded.    He  said  he  would. 

34.  In  that  space  I  had  been  thinking.  I  would  have 
to  go  down  the  river  some  distance  to  bury  the  infectious 
dead.  More ;  I  would  have  to  go  all  the  way  back  to  Bas 
Obispo  for  supplies  of  food  and  water,  febrifugal  medi- 
cines and  disinfectants.  Fresh  outbreaks  might  delay  me. 
Time  would  pass  ere  I  could  return.  We  were  running 
short-handed  in  those  days  and  I  had  no  white  man  to 


volved  in  Wakeman's  struggle  with  himself  in  enforcing  the  white 
man's  standards — as  when  he  keeps  saying,  "  It'll  be  torment." 

32.  The  first  appeal  to  Wakeman's  traditions  as  a  white  man. — 
The  use  of  the  abbreviated  "  Wake,"  inobviously  introduced  here 
and  continued  through  the  story,  helps  to  establish  Wakeman  in 
our  favor  and  make  him  better  known;  men  who  lack  good  and 
Hkable  qualities  do  not  win  short  and  chummy  nicknames.  The 
same  fact  indicates  that  Faulkner  found  him  worthy  of  respect. 

33.  The  white  man's  custom  of  considering  the  advice  and 
wishes  of  his  women  folk — and  the  woman's  habitude  of  saying 
that  which  she  thinks  will  please  her  man.  A  touch  of  race  char- 
acteristic and  a  touch  of  woman  nature. 

34-40.  The  forceful  man's  quick  seizing  of  the  means  to  his 
purpose,  and  the  man-maker's  stern  employment  of  his  power  to 
set  the  weaker  brother  a  task  that  will  strengthen  him.  These 
elemental  facts  of  life  afford  the  underlying  motivation  by  which 
the  author  plunges  "  Wake  "  into  responsibility  and  prepares  the 
way  for  the  ensuing  action. 


Tropics  575 

leave  behind  to  continue  my  wcrk.  There  was  no  white 
man,  other  than  Wake,  within  miles.  A  man  was  at  need, 
a  white  man. 

35.  I  explained  to  Wake. 

36.  "For  que  no  usted?  "  I  concluded.  "Why  not 
you  ?  " 

37.  His  mouth  fell  open.  It  remained  open.  His  eyes 
seemed  to  float  between  the  lids  in  a  brown  fluid.^ 

38.  "  You  are  the  man,"  I  followed  up.  "  Someone 
has  to  stay  here.     You're  in  quarantine,  anyway." 

39.  He  nodded  helplessly  at  the  truth  of  the  remark. 

40.  "  Now,"  I  expounded,  "  you'll  be  in  charge.  I'll 
give  you  supplies  "  and  medicines.  You'll  keep  the  harrio 
clean.  You'll  attend  the  sick.  Whenever  somebody  tum- 
bles over,  run  up  the  yellow  flag.  I'll  come  after  him.  As 
often  as  I  can,  I'll  be  around  to  see  how  you  are  getting 
along." 

41.  "  How  long  will  it  last  ?  "  he  asked  drearily. 

42.  "  Can't  say.  At  the  worst,  till  they're  all  gone. 
Six  months.  If  they  die  close  together,  it  will  be  shorter. 
Maybe  two.  There  must  be  five  days'  quarantine  after 
the  last  case." 

43.  "  It  will  be  [torment].^  Do  you  think  I  can 
doit?" 


36.  Local  color  through  foreign  speech;  note  the  immediate 
translation. — '  The  struggle  of  devitalizing  romance  with  duty. 
This  will  now  be  found  showing  itself  repeatedly. 

39-41.  Which  deciding  element  is  the  stronger,  Wakeman's  ro- 
mantic weakness  or  his  Caucasian  sense  of  necessity  for  the  white 
man  to  take  up  his  burden? 


'«  MS  :  disinfectants 
»  MS :  hell 


676  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

44.  "  It  will  be  torment.^  But  *  you  can  do  it.  You're 
white.  You  were  a  man  once.  The  blood's  still  there — 
the  stick-to-it-ivencss,  the  never-say-die  spirit  of  a  white 
man.  Two  months  or  more  to  make  a  man  of  you,  Wake, 
a  white  man !  " 

45.  The  liquid  brown  of  his  eyes  coalesced  at  the 
words.     They  gleamed  hard. 

46.  ''  By  Heaven,'*  I'll  do  it!  "  he  said. 

11. 

47.  I  placed  the  little  jet-eyed  mother  in  the  hands  of 
Wake's  golden  "  beauty.  I  stacked  some  dead  leaves  and 
wood  beside  the  vacated  hut,  strewed  some  oil  over  it,  and 
put  a  match  to  the  pile.^  The  air  shriveled  up  with  ®  heat. 
A  continuous  roar,  a  °  single  pane  of  red — and  the  bamboo 
and  the  thatch  were  a  heap  of  gray  ashes.  There  were 
seventeen  huts. 


44.  Brutal  truth  and  human  encouragement  combined  in  effec- 
tive appeal  by  a  man  who  knows  how  to  handle  men.  The  speech 
fits  the  man  who  makes  it;  S.  S.  M.,  235: 11-13. 

45.  Climactic  height  or  decisive  moment  of  that  moral,  or  char- 
acter, crisis  in  Wakeman  with  which  this  stage  of  the  narrative  has 
been  dealing.  We  may  call  this  part  the  stage  of  generating 
incident  in  the  moral  action  of  the  story.  This  moral  action  is 
to  be  kept  in  mind  and  understood  as  hereafter  accompanying 
and  affording  motive  and  motivation  (S.  S.  M.,  16:11)  for  the 
outward  action. 

47.  The  movements  of  the  story  so  far  are :  1.  Introductory  and 
expository,  pars.  1-13   (13  making  an  impressive  pause  between 

♦  MS  :  But,   man, 
»  MS  :  God 

•  MS  :  jungle 

T  MS  :  Volumes  of  smoke  curled  upward  and  banked  in  the  parched  air 
in  a  thick  black  cloud  that  enveloped  the  shack  and  hid  the  palm  trunki 
l)ehind.  Then,  of  a  sudden.  V7ith  a  monstrous  crackling,  a  single  slieet 
of  flame  shattered  the  opacity  of  smoke  and  leapt  toward  the  peacock- 
blue  above. 

s  MS  :   the 

*  MS  :  roar,  that  single 


Tropics  577 

48.  I  went  with  Wake  through  the  village.  I  pointed 
out  what  had  to  be  done.  He  was  to  see  that  no  one  tam- 
pered with  the  breaker  of  distilled  water.  He  himself 
was  to  dole  out  the  supply  of  it.  Quinin  he  should  force 
the  well  to  take  as  regularly  as  the  unwell.  Like  food. 
He  was  to  get  the  sweat-encrusted  clothing  from  the 
natives. 

49.  "  Strip  it  off  their  backs  as  they  sleep,  if  need  be," 
I  said.     "  I'll  bring  a  vat.     Then  you  can  boil  it." 

50.  "  It'll  be  torment,"  "  he  kept  saying. 

51.  I  collected  all  the  old  guns  and  pistols,  firearms  of 
every  description,  in  the  village.     I  cast  them  into  the 


the  opening  and  the  main  body  of  the  narrative.  Let  the  student 
now  note  that  13  at  onee  supplies  a  momentary  relief  from  the 
descriptive  tension  of  the  preceding  paragraphs,  and  keys  the 
reader  to  a  greater  intensity  to  come).  2.  Exposition  of  the 
essential  situation,  and  the  bringing  on  of  the  main  actor,  pars. 
14-31  (in  two  parts,  the  first  giving  the  physical  environment, 
with  its  accompanying  atmosphere,  the  second  passing  from  set- 
ting to  situation  and  persons;  the  woman,  here  introduced,  is 
more  an  element  of  the  situation  than  an  actor  in  the  story). 

3.  Generating  incident  (see  45),  and  opening  of  the  immediate 
action,    with    Wakeman    as    the    central    person,    pars.    32-46. 

4.  The  beginning  of  Wakeman's  activities  under  the  new  condi- 
tions, pars.  47-63. 

47  if .  Integrating  management  (S.  S.  M.,  166:23);  coherent 
transition  is  obtained  by  further  mention  of  situation  and  atmos- 
phere details,  with  Wakeman  now  taking  active  part.  (Let  the 
student  attentively  I'eview  up  to  par.  46,  noting  the  large  amount 
of  concentrative  detail  carried  by  the  narrative  and  the  complete 
integration    of   the   materials.      On    concentrative    material,    see 

5.  S.  M.,  107:30-31.) 

50.  The  remark  has  already  been  twice  made.  It  expresses 
Wakeman's  realization  of  consequences  in  his  moral  struggle  (see 
S.  S.  M.,  171:4,  consequential  exposition). 

"MS:  hell 


578  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

cayuca.    I  handed  Wake  my  own  Colt's  .38  automatic  and 
some  spare  clips. 

52.  "  That  will  make  trouble,"  "  I  smiled.  "  Man, 
you're  going  to  fight  like  a  white.  You'll  meet  opposition. 
The  natives  are  ignorant.  The  quarantine  strict.  Let  no 
one  leave  the  village.  Scar  the  flaming  mastery  of  the 
white  man  on  their  dark  souls.^"  Fight.  It  will  make  a 
man  of  you,  Wake.     A  white  man." 

53.  I  gave  him  from  the  boat's  locker  a  yellow  flag. 
My  eye  had  noted  a  lofty  eighty-foot  cocoanut-palm  stand- 
ing all  alone  to  one  side  on  a  jagged  spur  of  bank.  It 
could  be  seen  for  miles.  I  noosed  a  rope  over  a  twenty- 
foot  leaf  near  the  top.  I  cut  a  rude  cleat,  with  its  one 
arm  pointing  downward,  in  the  gummy  trunk  a  few  feet 
above  the  base.  I  tied  together  the  ends  of  the  rope  and 
snapped  it  taut  into  the  notch.  It  was  an  improvised 
flagpole. 

54.  I  wrapped  the  leathery  bodies  on  the  red  clay  in 
army  blankets  and  piled  them  atop  the  heap  of  weapons 
in  the  bottom  of  the  cayuca.  The  withered  mite  of  a  baby 
made  a  pitiful  bundle.  I  conquered  a  desire  to  shake 
hands  with  Wake.  He  had  his  own  redemption  to  work 
out.' 

55.  "  Adios,"  I  waved  to  him. 


53-54.  Representative  passages  of  realistic  detail  as  found  in 
this  story.  The  author  gains  much  of  his  atmosphere  effect 
through  realism.  Incidentally,  it  is  the  realism  that  largely  im- 
presses us  with  the  feeling  that  the  narrative  is  true  to  fact 
(S.  S.  M.,  90:9-11  and  13— plausibility).— '  Two  sentences  that 
remind  us  of  the  fundamental  moral  situation,  or  action.  Watch 
for  other  instances  of  such  quick  reminders. 

"  MS  :   make  hell 

»=>  MS:  Brand  the  high  godship  of  the  white  man  on  their  yellow  souls. 


Teopics  579 

56.  We  cut  through  the  foliage  arching  the  sluggish, 
yellow  stream.  As  we  made  the  bend,  I  could  see  him  still 
standing  on  the  bank  looking  after  us. 

57.  He  worked  that  day.  That  night  he  slaved.  About 
midnight  the  little  black  mother  evidenced  the  symptoms 
of  the  jack.  It  may  have  been  contagion.  The  sting,  in 
the  removal,  of  one  of  the  droning  mosquitoes.  He  put 
his  knee  on  her  bosom,  pried  her  teeth  open  with  his  knife, 
and  slipped  the  quinin-grains  between  them.^  To  ease  her 
final  agonies  and  still  the  pitiful  cries  for  her  baby,  he 
poured  chlorodyne  down  her  retching  throat.  She  died, 
and  he  carried  her  out  to  the  clay  bank,  an  uncanny  red  in 
the  moonlight. 

58.  That  filled  him  with  the  Fear.     He  visited  once 


56.  Observe  the  management  in  shifting  the  attention  wholly  to 
Wakeman.  We  follow  the  boat  out  of  sight,  yet  turn  with  un- 
broken interest  to  Wakeman;  skillfully  done,  making  us  feel  as 
if  personally  present  with  the  actors. 

57.  Another  of  the  items  of  realistic  detail.  The  concentrative 
material  in  these  passages  has  its  purpose  in  making  us  feel  the 
repulsiveness  of  Wakeman's  duties  and  therefore  causing  us  to 
comprehend  the  magnitude  of  his  moral  struggle  and  victory. — 
Note  the  ever-recurring  descriptive  epithets  that  keep  us  aware 
of  the  local  color  of  tropical  environment. 

58.  Like  57,  with  the  added  human  touch  of  fear  for  his  wife. 
Observe  the  use  of  the  word  "  wife  " ;  in  par.  32,  the  term  changed 
from  "  woman  "  to  "  jungle  wife."  Now  "  Wife  "  is  employed 
regularly.  This  is  in  effect  an  unconscious  recognition  of  the 
human  relationship  valid  even  though  unsanctioned  by  conven- 
tional forms.  On  the  mental  attitude  toward  Wakeman  and  this 
relationship,  as  required  by  the  present  story,  see  n.  on  29-30. 
Her  dog-like  attendance  on  him  strengthens  our  feeling. 


'  MS :  His  wife  stripped  her  of  cinetura  and  sljlrt,  and  wound  a  blanliet 
about  her  little,  weak,  damp  form,  the  while  he  blew  a  sweating  fire  In 
one  o£  the  iron  fumigating  pans. 


580  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

more,  with  disinfecting-pan  and  quinin,  all  the  huts 
in  the  harrio.  His  wife  followed,  dog-like,  after 
him. 

59.  Under  a  litter  of  rags  in  one  corner  of  a  hut  he 
foimd  a  dying  boy.  The  little  chap  had  reached  the  end. 
His  breathing  was  imperceptible.  Like  sand  through  a 
sieve,  his  temperature  was  going  down.  Even  as  Wake 
lifted  him  upon  a  cot  he  burned  out. 

60.  A  sullen  trio  watched  Wake  from  the  other  end  of 
the  hut — a  young  native,  shuddering  with  m.alarial  fever, 
his  wife,  and  the  aged  father  of  the  two  men.  A  dose  of 
quinin  to  the  son.  Then  the  white  man  turned  on  the 
father. 

61.  He  was  an  old,  old  man,  knotted  and  almost  de- 
crepit. His  teeth  were  gone.  He  was  loathsomely  unclean. 
But  he  was  well.  He  had  a  tenacious  grasp  on  life.  He 
answered  Wake's  angry  questions  in  a  squeak  through  the 
side  of  his  shriveled  mouth. 

62.  Him  Wake  blamed  for  the  attempt  to  conceal  the 
dead.  Amid  squeals  for  forgiveness,  he  had  him  drag  out 
the  corpse  and  lay  it  beside  the  child-mother's  on  the  bank. 
Then,  as  the  old  man  made  to  slink  back  to  his  hut.  Wake 
informed  him  that  he  was  his  assistant.  He  would  help 
keep  the  village  clean.  He  would  be  given  more  work  to 
do  next  day.     It  was  poetic  justice. 

63.  Then,  in  the  leprous  wash  of  moonlight,  Wake  ran 
up  the  yellow  flag. 


60-62.  Wakeman,  in  his  returning  manhood,  now  coerces  the 
old  man,  as  Faulkner  (34-44)  coerced  him.  True  to  fundamental 
facts  of  human  motive,  consistently  realized  and  utilized  by  the 
author  in  his  creation  of  character  (S.  S.  M.,  182:6;  208:  2-3  j 
2H-219). 


Teopics  581 

64.  Of  the  two  bodies  awaiting  us  on  the  clay,  as  we 
beached  late  next  day,  the  mother's  face  looked  the  babe's, 
the  boy's  the  wrinkled  aged.  Ere  we  departed,  three  of  the 
six  natives  who  had  deserted  into  the  jungle  dragged  them- 
selves on  hands  and  knees  back  to  the  clearing.  [They 
were]*  helpless  from  the  pla"gue.  One  stuck  his  toes 
toward  heaven.  He  was  the  huge  negro  husband  of  the 
child-mother.^ 

65.  "  Well,  how  goes  it.  Wake  ?  "  I  asked. 

66.  "  Just  these  three." 
6Y.    "And  you?" 

68.  "  For  God's  sake,  give  me  something  to  do!  Keep 
me  busy." 

69.  "  There  it  is."  I  swept  the  stores  [I  had  just 
landed — blankets,  rough  clothing,  iron  pans,  two  huge 
caldrons,  mosquito-netting,  febrifuges,  and  foodstuffs  and 
such  duffle]. ^^  "Break  oil  over  the  stream,  boil  the  mud 
out  of  the  blacks,®  shoot  alligators.  But  keep  going,  man. 
And  you'll  do." 

TO.  We  were  off,  the  three  bodies  trussed  like  mummies 
in  blankets  at  the  bottom  of  the  cayuca.  An  epidemic  in 
a  village  midway  down  on  the  left-hand  bank  necessitated 
our  speedy  inspection. 


64.   Begins  another  episode  in  the  fourth  movement. 
68.    In  ten  words,  an  adequate  expression  of  the  intensity  of 
Wakeman's  struggle. 


*  MS  :   the  clearing,  helpless  from 

"  MS  :  I  had  a  twenty-foot  dugout.  I  cast  out  blankets,  rough  cloth- 
ing, iron  pans  and  two  huge  caldrons,  mosquito  netting,  febrifuges  and  dis- 
infectants, a  couple  of  breakers  of  distilled  water,  a  supply  of  food,  a  cask 
of  oil  and  some  other  unmentionable  and  very  vulgar  objects. 

^b  Not  in  MS.    See  5,  just  above. 

«  MS  :  niggers 


582  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

71.  From  the  slippery  stretch  of  mud  jutting  out  into 
the  river  and  facing  that  village  I  cleared  the  rotting 
growths  and  laid  out  a  base  of  operations.  I  could  glimpse 
from  here  above  the  vivid  coloring  of  tropical  vegetation 
the  tuft  of  leaves  of  the  lofty  palm-tree.  But  no  saffron 
banner  broke  out,  all  next  day,  from  the  tree-top  to  hang 
limp  in  the  heat.  I  busied  myself  running  up  supplies  ^ 
and  attending  personally  to  the  village  opposite.  A  short 
distance  upstream,  on  the  right-hand  bank,  I  had  dedicated 
our  public  burying-ground. 

72.  I  did  not  want  to  bother  Wake.  I  felt  that  in 
shouldering  all  the  responsibility  himself  he  would  work 
out  ®  his  own  salvation.  He  would  become  the  white  man 
he  once  had  been.  But  toward  meridian  of  the  second  day 
I  got  worried  about  the  absence  of  the  flag  from  the  cocoa- 
nut-tuft.  Surely  the  [scourge]®  had  not  been  downed  so 
soon.  I  launched  the  cayuca  and  with  two  cargadores  and 
a  fresh  load  of  stores,  paddled  up  the  reeking,  canopied 
stream. 

73.  As  we  turned  the  bend  in  a  thick  scum  of  oil,  I 
saw  the  flag  jerking  up  through  the  simmering  heat  toward 
the  tree-top."  In  a  trice  we  were  running  up  the  bank 
alongside  the  leathery-skinned  bodies  of  a  man  and  an 
aged  hag. 

74.  Wake  met  us,  his  worshiping  wife  at  his  heels,  and 
behind  the  pair,  the  old  toothless  assistant.     Traces  of 


71-72.  Further  contributive,  or  eoncentrative,  detail;  it  might 
be  dispensed  with  except  for  the  necessity  of  making  us  feel  the 
passage  of  time. 

74.  Another  episode  in  movement  4  begins. — As  the  situation 
develops,  the  wife  becomes  a  more  human  element  in  it,  without 

'MS:  stores  »  MS  :   Surely  the  plague 

8  MS  :  most  surely  his  *"  MS  :  We  made  haste.     In  a 


Teopics  583 

fearful  work  were  on  Wake's  face.  His  eyes  seemed  tem- 
pered to  a  brown  gelatin/  The  rudely  contrived  shirt  and 
greasy  khaki  trousers  had  been  washed  and  clung,  still 
damp,  to  his  frame.  I  noted  with  a  distinct  vibration  of 
pleasure  that  the  trousers  had  been  unrolled.  They  fell 
to  his  bare  ankles. 

75.  "  Not  so  bad,  old  man."  ^  I  nodded  toward  the  two 
bodies. 

76.  "  No.*  They  both  toppled  over,  not  a  minute  ago, 
as  from  the  same  thunder-bolt." 

77.  A  doubt  appulsed  on  my  brain. 

78.  "  You're  getting  them  all  ?  Sure  they're  not  hid- 
ing them  on  you  ?  " 

79.  He  laughed  with  the  overmastering  confidence  of 
a  white  man. 

80.  "  I  should  say,"  he  drawled.  "  My  assistant  has 
been  example  enough."  He  indicated  the  weazened  old 
man  behind.  "  They  none  of  them  care  to  work  as  I'm 
working  him.    Besides,  I've  laid  out  a  sick-bay." 

81.  He  explained  the  plan  of  segregation.  An  entire 
family  of  seven  had  escaped  scatheless  the  path  of  the 
scourge.  He  had  quartered  them  upon  his  poor  assistant 
in  the  hut  where  the  young  native  hourly  was  throwing 


becoming  more  important  as  an  actor. — ^  Represents  another 
restoration  in  Wakeman  of  the  white  man's  attitude — hard  per- 
sonal resolution  (see  45)  tempered  into  sympathy  through  endu- 
rance and  dealing  with  suffering.  (The  following  sentences  men- 
tion outward  evidences  of  his  spiritual  alteration.) 

79-80.  These  confirm  74,  and  make  us  see  that  the  transforma- 
tion is  becoming  thorough.  What  further  indications  of  this  in 
the  rest  of  the  episode? 

^  MS    has    a    comma.    The    punctuation    has    been    edited    a    good    deal 
throughout,  sometimes  apparently  without  consistency  or  sufficient  reason. 
«MS:  No,  said  he. 


584  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

off  the  malarial  cliills.  The  vacated  hut  he  had  established  " 
as  a  hospital. 

82.  He  led  me  to  it.  As  the  thatched  bamboo  hut 
showed  ahead,  I  caught  a  [dull  low  monotone  of  pain]® 
broken  only,  now  and  then,  by  screams  as  of  unendurable 
agony.  The  doorway  and  window  apertures  of  the  hut 
were  screened,  I  saw,  with  mosquito-netting.  Inside,  the 
walls  were  whitened  with  huge  dabs  of  chlorid  of  lime. 
The  air  was  stifling  with  heat  and  medicinal  and  sweaty 
odors  that  caused  the  brains  to  reel  in  the  brain-pan  of  my 
head. 

83.  There  was  from  the  doorway  a  yard-wide  walk, 
the  soggy  mud  flooring  of  which  bad  been  banked  with 
fresh  clay  and  tamped  down  hard  and  smooth  and  red. 
Beside  that,  down  the  length  of  the  hut,  was  a  raised  plat- 
form of  palm-slabs,  six  feet  wide,  with  a  slight  slant  to- 
ward the  passageway. 

84.  Stretched  side  by  side  in  blankets  on  the  platform, 
and  writhing  and  tossing,  [groaning  and  moaning,]^  lay  a 
round  dozen  sick.  They  were  old  men  and  young,  women 
and  kinky-haired  children.  Over  their  convulsed  faces  lay 
the  gauze  of  net-woven  mosquito-screening. 

85.  "  Looks  bad,"  I  commented. 

86.  "  It's  torment,"  ^  said  he. 

87.  He  went  dow^n  the  line,  dosing  each  tossing  form 
with  medicine.     One  lay  still.     As  he  came  upon  it,  the 


86.  Now  spoken  of  his  charges,  not  of  himself ;  he  is  forgetting 
himself  in  behalf  of  others.  Note  the  eharaeter-ehange  thus 
quietly  made  clear. 

"  MS  :  established,  for  the  .Tack  cases,  as 

•  MS  :  a  low  and  continuous  moaning  and  groaning  broken 

'  MS :  tossing,  and  breathing  that  dull  low  monotone  of  pain,  lay 

«  MS:  hell 


Tropics  585 

toothless  old  man  aarkencd  the  doorway  and  behind  him 
were  halted  four  of  the  younger  natives  bearing  two  fresh 
cases,  shrouded  in  blankets.  To  these  he  gave  quinin. 
He  indicated  where  they  should  be  placed.  He  ordered 
the  dead  man  to  be  carried  out.  He  spoke  in  the  sharp, 
decisive  manner  of  a  man  who  must  be  obeyed — a  white 
man.     The  aged  assistant  blinked  assent. 

88.  We  staggered  out  into  the  blinding  sunlight."  I 
uttered  ^°  no  word  of  praise.    Only  I  smiled  to  myself." 

89.  We  took  aboard  the  three  bodies  and  as  many  empty 
water-casks.  I  stuck  the  pole  to  shove  off  into  the  red  clay. 
I  thought  of  the  unrolled  trousers.     I  paused.     I  said : 

90.  "  Anything  you  need,  old  man  ?  " 

91.  He  shook  his  head  in  hesitating  negative.^^     His 


88.  Though  the  narrative  reveals  it,  we  are  nowhere  expressly 
told  that  Faulkner  planned  Wakemau's  redemption.  To  suggest, 
not  to  declare  by  matter-of-fact  explanation,  is  the  aim  in  art. 

90.  Like  Faulkner,  we  are  now  prepared  to  accept  Wakeman  as 
an  equal.  Note  two  facts.  The  remark  is  satisfactoiy  as  a  detail 
of  dialogue,  but  it  has  a  more  important  function  than  serving 
as  conversation;  i.e.,  to  indicate  by  suggestion  Wake's  redeemed 
status. 

91.  '  The  boyish  act  expresses  the  man's  shamed  sense  of  his  ill 
appearance.      Self-respect,    when    active,    calls    for    respectable 

oMS:  He  had  put  the  iron  vats  to  ^ood  use.  Wake  had.  In  them,  by 
an  admixture  of  corrosive  sublimate  and  tepid  water,  he  had  brewed  an 
antiseptic  wash,  and  he  and  his  jungle  mate  had  bathed  thoroughly.  He 
had  made  all  the  natives,  well  enough,  leap  in  like  frogs,  one  after  the 
other.  The  while  he  had  stolen  the  clothes  they  had  worked  and  perspired 
and  slept  in. 

He  had  laid  out  for  their  use  my  rough  supply.  But  there  had  proved 
not  enough  to  go  round,  so  he  had  boiled  the  sweat-stiff  clothing,  his  own 
among  them,  to  a  pulp  and  apportioned  them  out,  still  wet.  Then  he  had 
carried  out  the  sick,  doused  them  into  the  caldrons,  and  let  them  boil.  He 
had  wrapped  them  in  blankets  and  stretched  out  the  yellow  ones  in  the 
sick  ward.  He  had  dosed  all  with  quinine.  His  brown  eyes  twinkled  as 
he  told  me  how  they  all  of  them  had  raved  and  sweated. 

1"  MS  :   I   gave  vent   to 

"MS:  We  landed  more  medicines  and  disinfectants,  foodstuffs,  dis- 
tilled water,  oil  and  such  duffle. 

'2  MS  :  "  I  have  you  on  the  pay-roll,"  I  tried  to  bolster  up  his  courage. 
"  Assistant  United  States  Sanitary  Inspector,  you  know.  Four  and  a  half 
per." 


586  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

eyes  dropped  to  his  bare  feet  and  he  stubbed  a  toe  ^  into 
the  clay.  He  felt  my  eyes  follow  his.  His  face  flushed, 
beneath  the  tropic  saffron,  with  warm  color.  He  blurted 
out: 

92.  "Shoes." 

93.  "  Righto !  "  I  said,  mentally  measuring  his  feet 
with  my  eyes,^^    "  That's  all,  sure  ?  " 

94.  He  warmed  red  as  the  clay  at  his  feet.     After  a 
long,  embarrassed  silence 

95.  "  Can  you  get  me  a  bright  bandanna  ?  "  he  asked 
breathlessly. 

96.  That,  I  knew,  was  for  his  bride  of  the  jungles.   He 
had  been  unable  hitherto  to  afford  it. 

97.  "  I'll  bring  them  all,  manana/'  I  said. 

98.  I  was  far  ^*  happier  than  my  voice  implied. 

III. 

99.  The  sun  belched  shriveling  heat  many  times  upon 
the  village  while  it  continued  to  gasp  beneath  the  horror. 

raiment.  The  author  here  employs  psychological  fact  in  further 
indicating  Wakeman's  awakening. 

95-96.  A  reminder  of  his  recent  condition.  It  helps  to  afford 
contrast  with  his  present  condition.  (It  is  a  little  hard  to  recon- 
cile 96  with  the  last  sentence  of  29.  Possibly  the  author 
"  slipped  " ;  or,  perhaps,  we  are  to  understand  that,  in  his  new 
state  of  mind,  Wakeman  has  a  more  tender  comprehenson  of  the 
woman's  desire  for  the  gaudy  headgear,  and  a  livelier  wish,  in- 
creased by  his  fear  for  her  safety,  to  do  all  that  he  can  for  her 
happiness.  The  strength  of  his  affection  for  her  is  increasingly 
revealed  as  the  story  proceeds — another  means  used  to  establish 
our  sympathy  toward  their  association;  see  29-30  and  58). 

99-111.    Summarizing  narrative,  covering  the  passage  of  longer 

'»MS:   "Nothing    else?" 

"  A  razor." 
»*  MS:  far,  far 


Tropics  587 

The  work  had  settled  down  to  a  fearful  routine.  More 
than  once  Wake  cleared  the  hospital  of  dead,  only  to  find, 
after  a  maddening  vigil  of  one  or  two  or  even  three  days, 
that  new  cases  were  falling  and  filling  the  sick-bay  to  over- 
flowing and  pouring  out  into  the  huts.  There  had  been 
some  ninety  souls  in  the  harrio.  There  still  lingered  half 
a  hundred. 

100.  I  would  row  up  supplies  every  two  days  or  three 
or  four,  and  carry  away  the  hideous  freight.  Once  it  ran 
the  occult  five  that  would  release  the  village  from  bon- 
dage. But  that  evening,  ere  purple  dusk,  the  lemon  ensign 
of  death  draggled  from  the  tuft.  A  man  had  vomited  and 
stuck  his  feet,  within  the  space  of  an  hour,  toward  the 
burning  sheet  of  blue.  The  iron  clutch  of  quarantine  was 
on  like  a  vise  once  more. 

101.  The  racking  strain  showed  on  Wake.  His  face 
had  lost  its  indolent  oval.  The  cheek-bones  were  high, 
the  haughty  nose  never  more  imperious.  His  eyes  were 
coals  of  brown  fire.  Beneath  the  snug  suit  of  khaki  with 
the  brass  cross  on  its  collar,  the  loaded  cartridge-belt  about 
his  middle,  the  .38  Colt's  automatic  in  the  holster  at  his 


time.  This  portion  gives  opportunity  for  introducing  ancillary 
matter — further  indication  of  the  effect  of  his  work  on  Wakeman, 
description  of  the  psychological  reaction  (102),  expository  matter 
preparing  for  the  further  development  of  the  action  (103-111), 
and  the  bringing  forward  of  the  old  assistant  in  preparation  for 
his  coming  role  as  a  participant.  On  the  introduction  of  contribu- 
tive  matter  in  places  of  lessened  intensity  and  the  keeping  of 
it  subordinate,  see  S.  S.  M.,  152  :  2-4 ;  165  :  21 ;  166  :  23 ;  225  :  13.— 
These  twelve  paragraphs  are  the  introduction  to  the  fifth  stage 
of  the  development.  In  the  fourth  movement,  Wakeman's  out- 
ward struggle  has  been  waged  with  physical  environment  and 
disease ;  in  the  present  movement,  he  is  to  deal  with  human  oppo- 
sition and  passions. 


588  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

hip,  his  frame  "svas  upright,  compact,  resilient.     He  came 
down  hard  on  the  heels  of  his  armj  shoes. 

102.  I  knew  what  he  was  going  through.  I  was  ex- 
periencing it  in  the  empested  village  down  on  the  other 
bank.  It  was  not  so  bad  when  they  were  dying.  The  days 
when  there  were  no  stricken,  and  the  hospital  was  empty, 
and  each  man  eyed,  with  glaring  threat,  his  fellow  lest  he 
should  come  down — that  was  maddening.^ 

103.  On  such  days  the  monotony  of  rounds  carried 
Wake  *  only  a  little  past  noon.  Then  the  men  free  from 
duty,  would  gather  in  sullen  groups  and  pretend  sleep  in 
the  shade.  But  when  he  was  not  looking,  he  knew  they 
were  whispering  together. 

104.  They  wanted  the  iron  quarantine  lifted.  They 
wanted  to  relapse  into  their  old  mode  of  life,  with  all  its 
indolence,^  its  frightful  sordidness.  Some  there  were  who 
wanted  to  flee  from  the  infection  into  the  jungle.  That 
w'as  the  ignorant  native  way  which  spread  the  plague  right 
and  left. 

105.  Wake  tried  to  keep  them  on  the  jump.  He  had 
them  put  mosquito  netting  over  the  doorways  and  aper- 
tures of  ^  the  huts.  Oil  covered  like  a  film  the  sluggish 
yellow  bosom  of  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank.  [Dry  clay 
was  strewed  over  the  oozing  floors  and  stamped  down  to 
stability.]^  He  looked  about  for  more  work.  To  that  end, 
he  had  them  drain  into  the  river  beneath  the  trees  and 


'  MS  :  You  can  Imafrine  it.  To  go  five  days  immune  from  disease ;  to 
look  for  the  lift  of  the  bars,  the  release  from  quarantine  and  the  eternal 
vii^il ;  and  to  have  the  whole  flat  monotony  snap  down  again,  like  an 
endless  treadmill,  with  the  closing  of  a  pair  of  glazed  eyeballs. 

Wake  found  his  worst  periods  when  the  hospital  was  empty.     On  such 

*  MS  :   carried  him 

^  MS  :   Indolences 

«  MS  :  of  all   the 

■^  MS  :  He  had  them  strew  dry  clay  over  the  oozing  floors  and  stamp 
it  down  to  stability. 


Tropics  589 

undergrowth  a  shallow  infectious  morass  on  the  edge  of 
the  jungle.  They  found  the  body  of  the  fourth  deserter 
festering  in  the  silt. 

106.  Deaths  had  broken  out  afresh,  after  that.  Two 
of  the  toilers  were  taken  down  even  as  they  bore  the  body 
toward  the  bank.  The  wives  and  offspring  ^  quickly  fol- 
lowed.    In  a  fortnight,  a  score  had  gone. 

107.  "  The  yellow  beggars  are  dying  out  of  spite," 
Wake  said  to  me.  "  They  lack  grit.^  They  believe  they 
are  going  to  die,  and  die  just  to  prove  it." 

108.  "  They're  not  white  men,"  I  said. 

109.  Wakeman  knew  that  morass  ought  to  be  filled  with 
earth.  The  mosquitoes  and  the  infection  still  steamed  up 
into  the  dead  air  from  the  mud.  He  hesitated  to  give  the 
order.  He  felt  that  the  natives  blamed  all  the  recent 
deaths  on  him  and  his  love  for  work.  True,  they  obeyed 
his  orders,  but  often  he  saw  their  eyes  tighten  to  a  line 
with  a  gleaming  center.  There  were  mutterings  in  the 
chest.  He  sensed  the  evilness  seething  beneath  the  tropic 
indolence. 

110.  He  discovered  that  the  half-score  men  stood  in 
fear  of  his  old  toothless  assistant.  No  groups  collected 
while  his  hairless,  parch-lidded  eyes  blinked  on  them.  But 
he  took  a  siesta  in  the  feverish  warmth  of  the  noontide. 
Once  he  came  unawares  on  their  gathering.  A  squeak 
through  the  side  of  his  mouth  and,  like  rats,  they  dis- 
persed.    Then  he  smirked  up  to  the  watchful  Wake. 

111.  Wake  knew.  He  was  no  fool.  He  knew  his 
adopted  people.  The  old  man  had  not  this  power  through 
his  present  position.     He  was  a  deeper  rogue,  a  smoother 

"  MS  :  wives  and  children 
»  MS  :  lack  guts. 


590  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

villain.  Like  the  Spanish  wench  ^^  that  makes  love  to  a 
man  as  she  stabs  him,  he  was  for  a  purpose  pouring  oil  over 
the  implacable  resentment  against  Wake.  He  was  wait- 
ing, [like  a  snake,]  "  for  the  moment  to  strike.  He 
would  wipe  out  in  blood  the  sweat  the  white  man  had 
made  him  shed  in  toil. 

112.  At  last,  once  more,  the  hospital  was  empty.  Two 
days  passed.^^  Then  three.  They  entered  upon  the  fourth. 
It  was  one  of  those  intervals  of  fancied  fredom  from  dis- 
ease that  stretched  as  on  tenter-hooks  the  soul  of  every  man. 
Duties  were  finished  hurriedly,  slipshod.  The  groups  col- 
lected. [Ferocious  individualism]"  broke  out.  Each  man 
eyed  his  fellow  with  a  menace,  writ  in  blood  on  his  eye- 
balls. Every  man  eyed  Wake,  stalking  back  and  forth 
along  the  bank  with  great  steps  that  were  almost  bounds, 
and  the  same  menace  was  written  there  for  him.^* 

113.  Wake,  as  he  paced  the  clay,  felt  the  glaring  eyes. 
He  was  a  framework  of  raw  nerves.  It  nettled  him.  He 
must  do  something.  Were  a  man  to  fall,  like  wolves  they 
would  be  at  one  another's  throats.  They  would  try  to 
conceal  the  dead.  It  would  be  as  much  as  his  life  was 
worth  to  run  up  the  yellow  flag.  He  knew  for  a  certitude 
that  this  time  the  old  man  would  not  hold  them  back.^ 


112.  Like  102,  it  presents  psychological  conditions.  They  have 
become  determining  forces  in  the  action,  and  are  therefore  essen- 
tial to  the  motivation. 

113.  '  The  old  man  is  to  be  the  chief  antagonist  in  this  part  of 
the  struggle.  Wakeman  is  the  protagonist,  faemg  general  opposi- 
tion, centered  in  the  assistant. 

>»  MS:  slut 

"MS:   waiting,   as  a   snake  waits, 
'^MS:  passed  and  no  new  oases. 

^^  MS  :  Savage  individualism — the  old   long  struggle  of  each   man   to 
survive — broke 

**  MS  :  for  him.     Pity  the  one  who  should  come  down ! 


Teopics  591 

114.  ["  Sear  the  flaming  mastery  of  the  white  man  on 
their  dark  souls,"] ^  I  had  said  to  him. 

115.  He  thought  of  that.  Work  they  hated.  He  would 
give  them  work.  He  would  make  them  work.  He  had  it. 
He  would  force  them  to  fill  with  earth  the  infectious 
morass. 

116.  "  Here !  "  he  shouted.     "  Get  out  of  this." 

117.  He  strode  among  the  groups  and  kicked  the  men. 
They  scowled  at  him.  Some  muttered;  but  all,  save  one, 
got  afoot.  He  was  the  son  of  the  old  assistant,  recovered 
from  the  malaria — a  brown,  lithe  young  native  with  shift- 
ing eyes.  The  white  man  reached  down  and  grasped  him 
by  the  nape  of  the  neck.  He  lifted  him  bodily  into  the 
air.  With  a  jar  that  bent  the  bones  under  him,  he  brought 
him  down  upon  his  feet. 

118.  "  There!  "  he  said.     "  Xow  you  come." 

119.  He  armed  them  with  picks  and  machetes  and 
shovels.  He  strode,  at  the  head  of  all  that  sullen  straggling 
throng,  through  the  jungle  toward  the  morass.  He  never 
once  looked  around. 

120.  As  they  broke  through  the  rotting  growths,  the 
old  man  fell  back  to  jabber  softly  to  his  son  and  the  other 
natives.  Wake  missed  him  from  his  side.  He  felt  the 
hidden  drama  afoot.     He  did  not  look  back. 

121.  Once,  he  slipped  in  the  black  muck.  He  sensed, 
as  he  caught  himself,  the  desire  leaping  in  their  dark 


115.  In  contrast  with  himself  not  long  before,  when  his  con- 
duct was  the  same  as  theirs. 

119.  Why?  What  motive  does  it  indicate  in  him?  What 
quality?    See  120  and  121. 

3  MS  :  *'  Brand  the  high  godship  of  the  white  man  on   their  yellow 
souls,"  1  had 


592  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

hearts  to  spring  upon  him  and  mash  him  into  rcpulsive- 
ness.  He  never  turned  his  eyes  from  ahead.  That  spirit 
of  the  dominant  white  man  awed  them. 

122.  With  a  sullen  will  they  fell  to  on  the  work.  The 
machete-crew  cleared  away  for  the  picks  the  dense  vegeta- 
tion that  concealed  the  teeming  black  earth.  They  turned 
and  loosened  the  muck,  and  shoveled  it  from  the  sides 
into  the  mud  of  the  morass. 

123.  Wake  bounded  among  them,  looking  for  trouble. 
He  wanted  trouble.  To  a  man  fresh  with  vigor  the 
strained  situation  w^ould  have  been  trying  enough.  As  it 
was,  himself  a  frame  of  raw  nerves,  something  had  to  be 
done.  But  no  one  offended  him.  They  knew.  They  were 
growing  crafty. 

124.  He  watched,  with  a  distinct  pang  of  dread,  the 
blinding  day  deepen  into  purple  evening.  He  had  been 
unable  to  brand  the  lesson  on  their  cunning  souls.  He 
had  returned  to  the  village  to  find  no  fresh  cases.  Thirty 
hours  more  and  the  irksome  ban  w^ould  be  lifted.  The 
suspense  was  on  them  like  thumb-screws.  He  could  see 
the  natives  huddled  in  w^atchful  groups,  their  eyes  glow- 
ing like  owls'  in  the  light  of  the  trembling  fires. 

125.  His  wife  busied  over  the  rice  vibrating  in  a  black 


123-124.  A  suspense  device:  the  decisive  moment  in  his  struggle 
with  the  natives  is  postponed  through  their  craftiness  (temporary 
defeat). 

125.  Third  episode,  fifth  movement  begns. — Note  the  recurrence 
at  intei'vals  of  things  that  keep  our  sympathies  with  Wakeman  in 
his  domestic  relations.  These  human  passages  showing  his  love 
for  the  woman  not  only  hold  our  sympathies,  but  motivate  the 
tragedy  of  her  death  in  a  later  episode. 

125-128.    Intensifying  and  suspense-creating  details. 


Tropics  593 

pot  on  a  handful  of  burning  sticks.  A  sudden  fear  for 
her  gripped  him.  He  put  his  arm  about  her  golden 
shoulder,  lifted  the  pot  from  the  fire,  and  went  with  her 
inside.  They  ate  that  night  behind  the  mosquito-screened 
doorway. 

126.  He  lay  down,  heavy  with  sleepiness.  But  he  could 
not  sleep.  His  automat,  was  on  the  cot  under  his  hand.* 
He  was  wide-eyed  awake.  A  bare  foot  had  flopped  outside 
in  the  grassy  way.  His  fingers  closed  over  the  butt  and 
he  listened.  He  knew  several  men  lurked  in  the  moon- 
light. He  slipped  off  the  cot  and  sidled  along  the  w^all. 
His  right  hand  leveled  the  automat.,  his  left  reached  out 
and  snapped  aside  the  netting.  There  was  a  rustle  where 
nothing  stirred  in  the  windless  air. 

127.  He  roundly  cursed  ^  the  natives  and  the  moonlight 
as  he  crawled  back  on  the  cot.  For  long  moments  his 
brains  peopled  the  clearing  with  vague  life.  Once,  he 
thought  he  caught  the  splash  of  water.  It  may  have  been 
a  fish  leaping  through  the  sheen-coat  of  the  river.  Then, 
in  the  moonlight  all  was  still  and  breathless  with  heat. 
Inside,  in  the  dark,  his  hand  on  the  revolver,  Wake  tossed 
and  mumbled  in  uneasy  slumber. 

128.  He  went  his  rounds  next  morning — the  morning 
of  the  last  day — searching  for  trouble.  That  night  had 
showed  him  the  natives  were  growing  bold.  Any  moment 
they  might  pounce  upon  him,  risking  the  quick  death  of 
the  rattling  automat.,  rather  than  linger  in  the  village 
for  the  yellow  one  they  felt  certain  awaited  them  there. 
[It  spurred  the  mastering  spirit  in  him  to  bend  them  to 
his  will.]  « 

<  MS  :  his  hand.     On  the  sudden,  he  was 

■>  MS  :  cursed  roundly  the 

«  MS  :  them  there.  It  urged  the  lording  spirit  in  him  to  mold  them  to 
bis  win. 


594  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

129.  He  found  trouble.  From  the  ten  people  in  his 
assistant's  but,  bo  missed  tbe  wife  of  tbe  young  native. 
Tbc  old  man  squcakingly  explained  tbat  sbe  was  about  the 
village.  Tbe  younger  one  muttered  deep  in  bis  cbest  and 
snapped  at  bim  witb  bis  ferret-eyes. 

130.  He  realized  tbe  uselessness  of  questioning  them. 
He  knew.  Even  before  be  ransacked  every  but  in  tbe 
harrio,  be  knew.  Tbe  woman  bad  gone  under  from  tbe 
plague.  Tbey  bad  bidden  ber.  Tbey  migbt  have  buried 
ber  alive. 

131.  He  penetrated  tbe  jungle  to  look  for  fresb-turned 
eartb.  Tbat  would  be  tbe  grave.  He  asked  no  one  to 
help  bim.  Not  even  tbe  oily  assistant.  He  bad  work  cut 
out  for  bis  own  band.  When  be  found  it,  tbat  band  would 
fall  bcavily  upon  tbem.  He  recalled  tbe  flop  of  bare  feet, 
tbe  rustle  in  tbe  undergrowth  of  the  night  previous.'  That 
was  tbe  burial  procession. 

132.  But  no  space  cleared  of  rank  growths,  no  fresh, 
teeming  muck  met  bis  eyes  in  tbe  twilight  deeps.  The 
filled-in  morass  had  been  tramped  into  solidity  by  many 
bare  feet.  Whether  by  the  workers  of  the  afternoon  or 
tbe  ghouls  of  tbe  night,  he  bad  no  means  of  making  sure. 
He  strode  back  toward  the  clearing. 

133.  Several  bright-plum  aged  birds  fanned  by  bis  face, 
like  clammy  bands,  in  noiseless  flight.  They  bad  been 
startled  from  tbe  sun-filtering  foliage  ahead.  He  made 
out,  in  tbe  stagnant  gloom,  four  young  natives  coming 


129-142.    Completes  the  action  of  the  second  episode  (see  123- 
124),  with  Wakeman  temporarily  the  victor  in  the  contest. 

*  MS  :  night  prior. 


I 


Tkopics  595 

toward  him.     They  were  armed  with  machetes.     One  was 
the  shifty-eyed  son  of  the  old  assistant. 

134.  "  Hello,"  he  said.     "  What's  up  ?  " 

135.  They  stopped  before  him  in  a  sullen  cluster,  and 
moved  uneasily.  Their  black  eyes  gleamed  with  ex- 
pectancy.    Something  was  about  to  happen. 

136.  "  We  have  come,  senor,  to  help  you  search,"  said 
one. 

137.  He  made  [as  if]*  to  step  alongside  of  Wake.  It 
was  a  move  to  precipitate  all  of  them  into  a  concerted 
action.  Wake's  hand  shot  out  to  his  shoulder  and  wheeled 
him  back  into  the  others. 

138.  "I  don't  need  you,"  he  said.  "Clear  out.' 
Pronto  !  " 

139.  They  did  not  move.  The  son  of  the  assistant 
elbowed  a  trifle  closer.  His  eyes  were  glistening  and  shift- 
ing like  a  wild  animal's. 

140.  "  Senor,"  he  said.  "  Ayer,  yesterday  you  hit 
me " 

141.  He  never  finished.  In  one  bound,  Wake  cleared 
the  space  separating  him  from  the  man.  His  fist,  doubled 
to  a  knot,  fanged  out  and  landed  flush  on  the  point  of  the 
other's  jaw  with  all  the  impetus  of  his  body  behind  it. 
The  brown  head  bent  like  a  reed  backward.  He  toppled 
sidewise  and  spread-eagled  in  the  growths.  Wake's  arms 
swung  around  like  flails.  To  all  sides,  into  the  brush,  the 
three  scattered  as  so  many  frightened  grouse  would  scatter 
to  cover. 

142.  "  Yes.  And  I've  hit  you  today,"  he  said  as  he 
bent  over  the  prone  form. 


*  MS  :  He  made  to  step 
«MS:Qut.     Vivo  I     Frontal 


596  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

143.  lie  halted  dead  on  the  edge  of  the  clearing. 

144.  "  Jesiis-Maria,"  he  said. 

145.  It  was  not  a  blasphemous  ejaculation.  It  was  the 
name  of  a  man.  But  not  of  the  yoimg  native  lying  on  his 
face,  his  arms  outspread,  in  the  rank  undergrowth.  It 
was  the  name  of  the  old  toothless  assistant. 

IV. 

146.  A  torpor  had  fallen  from  the  vault  of  brass.  The 
midday  was  dead  with  heat.  There  was  not  a  flutter  of 
wind.  The  river  was  a  black  simmering  sheet  of  grease 
from  bank  to  bank.  In  the  clearing  nothing  stirred.  The 
mosquitoes  lay  in  motionless,  droning  brown  patches  on 
the  grass.  The  thatch  of  the  roofs  crackled  under  the 
superheated  stagnancy.  Within,  in  the  obscurity,  the  na- 
tives tossed  and  sweated  and  gasped  for  life  from  the 
pestilential  air. 

147.  Wake,  as  he  stood,  felt  his  lungs  tighten  and  the 
sweat  burst  his  pores  and  trickle  in  streams  down  his  face. 
Wherever  the  khaki  snugged  his  frame,  the  sweat  was  dye- 
ing it  to  a  browner  hue.  It  showed  through  at  the  shoul- 
ders and  in  a  spreading  circular  band  beneath  the  belt  at 
his  middle.  He  made  for  the  water-breaker  in  the  shade 
of  his  hut.  The  stinging  sun  rays  stabbed  like  white-hot 
points  into  his  brains. 


146-155.  The  fourth  episode  begins.  As  far  as  150,  it  consists 
of  a  new  concentrating  incident  (the  story  is  made  up  largely  of 
concentrative  or  intensifying  incident,  with  its  amplifying  detail, 
as  distinguished  from  plot  incident;  S.  S.  M.,  108:32-33).  Pars. 
151-155  then  take  up  and  complete  the  unexplained  facts  of 
126-127. — So  closely  connected  are  the  two  remaining  episodes 
with  the  preceding  one  that  all  are  for  practical  purposes  only 
one.    The  divisions  would  come  at  156  and  169. 


Tropics  597 

148.  The  mosquito-netting  was  awry.  It  draggled  over 
the  edge  of  the  barrel.  He  remembered  having  spread  it 
quite  carefully  over  the  top.  That  was  a  part  of  his 
rounds.  A  subtle  suspicion  caused  him  to  turn  the  cask 
over.  The  distilled  contents  flushed  out  and  almost  im- 
mediately the  blazing  sun  pumped  it  in  steam  up  into  the 
dead  air.  In  the  bottom  of  the  breaker,  wrapped  about  a 
round  smooth  washing-stone,  fumed  a  gaudy  red  and  white 
bandanna. 

149.  He  fished  it  out.  A  shiver  like  the  icy-cold  belly 
of  a  snake  was  oozing  up  and  down  the  marrow  of  his 
spine.  The  young  native's  wife  had  worn  on  her  head  a 
bandanna  of  red  and  white  printed  calico.  The  water  he 
himself  had  set  there  for  his  own  use. 

150.  "  Jesus-Maria,"  he  said  quietly. 

151.  He  made  for  the  bubbling  bank  to  cast  the  stone- 
laden  bandanna  through  the  oil  film.  He  carried  it  gin- 
gerly between  thumb  and  forefinger.  He  believed  it  in- 
fected with  the  fever  germs.  He  circled  the  clearing  to 
keep  in  the  shade  of  the  festering  growths.  The  band  of 
his  Stetson,  as  he  walked,  beaded  with  a  circle  of  sweat 
globules  that  splashed  on  the  slight  bulbous  tip  of  his  nose 
and  drip-dripped  down  his  flaming  back.  He  came  out 
on  the  steaming  clay  beneath  the  snaky  tendrils  of 
creepers. 

152.  Three  feet  beyond  him  on  a  hissing  mudbank  be- 


150.  Cf.  144,  and  note  that  in  effect  what  Jesus-Maria  did  is  as 
much  told  as  if  we  had  a  movement  devoted  to  it  by  itself.  The 
old  man's  part  is  suggested  by  telling  what  Wakeman  heard  and 
did.  It  is  the  means  used  by  Dickens  in  his  celebrated  passage 
telling  the  death  of  Sydney  Carton,  at  the  close  of  "  A  Tale  of 
Two  Cities." 


598  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

neath  a  tangle  of  underbrush  an  alligator  lay,  like  a  dead 
log,  baking  in  the  rays.  It  was  fully  sixteen  feet  long 
from  tail  to  sknting  head,  and  its  brown  back  was  caked 
hard  in  scales  with  mud.  The  dull,  fishy  eyes,  turned 
toward  him,  were  lidded ;  the  slimy  snout  was  [half- 
buried]^  in  the  tepid  water  which  was  cleared  of  oil,  sev- 
eral inches  about,  by  its  breathing. 

153.  He  wondered  that  in  the  shriveling  heat  it  was 
not  bobbing  under  the  gloom  of  the  arcade  in  some  cool 
pool  of  the  river.  He  saw  that  its  tough  hide  was  stretched 
to  a  roundness  at  the  sides  as  if  from  overeating. 

154.  He  swung  the  weighted  handkerchief  *  out  into 
the  stream.  The  oil-skin  broke  in  a  jagged  rip  and,  with 
a  splash,  bandanna  and  stone  plumbed  from  sight. 

155.  The  bloated  'gator  never  stirred.  The  film  still 
lidded  its  eyes.  It  was  in  a  coma  from  gormandizing.  A 
sudden  suspicion  impinged  on  Wake's  brain.  Whom  had 
it  eaten?  Quite  distinctly  he  recalled  the  splash  as  of  a 
leaping  fish  he  had  heard  the  night  before. 

156.  He  strode  out  of  the  lianas  along  the  bank. 
"  Jestis-Maria !  "  he  called  to  the  dead  huts.     Then  again. 

157.  The  old  man  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  his 
crackling  hovel.  Wake  motioned  him.  The  brown  bent 
form  crawled,  like  a  lizard,  through  the  sunlight. 

158.  The  white  man  indicated  the  yellow  flag  knotted 


158-163.  Management  to  create  suspense.  Although  we  foresee 
what  is  coming,  we  are  not  quite  certain.  The  suspense  is  effec- 
tively prolonged  as  action  proceeds  through  164-172.     This  con- 


»  MS  :  was  buried 

*  MS  :  handkercbief  through  the  coilers  out 


Tropics  599 

to  the  taut  rope  and  draggling  just  above  the  notch  at  the 
base  of  the  lofty  palm. 

159.  "  Run  it  up,  Jesus-Maria,"  he  said. 

160.  The  old  man  blinked  from  him  to  the  flag  and 
from  the  flag  to  him. 

161.  "  But,  senor"  he  said,  "  we  have  no  dead." 

162.  "  We  soon  will  have,"  said  Wake,  a  certain  metal- 
lic rasp  in  his  voice.     "  Run  up  that  flag !  " 

163.  The  old  man  jumped  as  Wake's  voice  exploded. 
His  hand  reached  out  for  the  rope.  It  was  shaking  as 
with  ague.  The  saffron  symbol  of  death  danced  in  leaps 
and  jerks  up  through  the  shimmering  heat  toward  the  mo- 
tionless tuft. 

164.  The  white  man  drew  the  Colt's  from  the  holster 
at  his  hip  and  stepped  toward  the  growths.  Brushing  them 
aside,  he  took  slow  aim  and  fired.  The  cruel  fleshy  yel- 
lowish-brown jaws  of  the  'gator  yawned  open.  Its  long 
brown  body  lifted  itself  bodily  into  the  air,  then  flapped 
down,  like  a  bursted  balloon,  half  on  the  mud-bank,  half 
submerged  in  the  oil-churned  water.  He  had  winged  it  in 
the  only  vulnerable  point  on  its  hide — a  death-shot  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  the  neck  behind  the  long  slanting  head. 

165.  He  turned  to  the  watchful  old  man  at  his  back. 
He  glimpsed,  as  he  did,  eyes  shifting  and  hostile  peering 
from  screened  doorways  and  apertures. 

166.  "  Here,"  he  said.     "  Get  men.     Cut  it  open." 

167.  The  old  man  emitted  a  squeak  through  the  side  of 
his  withered  mouth.     The  peering  eyes  took  on  the  drab 


stitutes  anticipatory  delay  within  the  movement  (S.  S.  M.,  74:  n.; 
cf.  S.  S.  M.,  155  :n.).  Par.  172  gives  a  moment  of  "final  sus- 
pense" (S.  S.  M.,  74:  n.),  before  the  action  moves  on  again 
toward  the  climactic  deed  (188). 


coo  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

form  of  men  who  trooped,  like  brown  lizards,  out  into  tlie 
stinging  sunlight.  There  were  many  interchanged  glances 
— at  the  flag  limp  overhead,  at  the  toothless  old  assistant, 
at  the  alligator,  at  the  lone  white  man.  A  nod  from  the 
old  man  would  set  them  on  him  like  hounds  unleashed. 
He  must  have  feared  to  start  the  action  when  I  was- 
coming. 

1G8.  I  had  been  watching  for  the  saffron  standard. 
For  Wake's  sake,  I  had  been  praying  that  it  would  not 
show.  Twelve  hours  more  would  lift  the  quarantine.  I 
had  cayuca  and  cargadores  in  readiness.  Instead  of  the 
emblem  of  death,  that  flag  might  be  the  signal  of  dire 
distress. 

• 

169.  I  took  a  paddle  myself,  despite  the  overwhelm- 
ing heat.  As  we  grounded  on  the  blistered  bank,  the  na- 
tives had  almost  finished  cutting  the  alligator  open.  It 
lay  on  its  back,  its  soft  steaming  belly  to  the  sun. 

170.  Wake  brushed  them  roughly  aside.  He  withdrew 
from  it  the  crushed  bones  and  black  hank  of  hair  of 
the  woman.  He  cast  them  into  the  bottom  of  the 
cayuca. 

171.  "Shove  off!"  he  called  peremptorily  to  me. 
"  They're  hiding  the  dead.  Don't  meddle.  It's  up  to  me. 
I'll  show  them." 

172.  He  strode  over  and  with  one  jerk  pulled  down 
the  flag.  I  swept  with  my  eyes  the  cluster  of  malignant 
faces  scowling  at  him.  Decisively  he  had  given  his  orders. 
I  shoved  off  and  w^e  skimmed,  with  a  backward  look,  into 
the  melancholy  shade  of  the  leafy  lattice-work. 

173.  Wake  eyed  steadily,  for  a  long  moment,  the  old 
man  blinking  up  at  him.     He  heard  the  mutterings  of 


Tropics  601 

the  men  clustered  behind  the  wizened  form.    He  said  quite 
calmly : 

174.  "  Eun  up  the  flag,  Jesus-Maria." 

175.  The  old  man  huddled  before  his  fellows  and,  save 
for  his  fluttering  lids,  did  not  move. 

176.  "  Run  up  the  flag,"  Wake  insisted.  His  voice 
rang  with  metallic  timbre. 

177.  "  But  serior,  senor,  we  have  no  dead." 

178.  "  We  soon  will  have,"  said  Wake. 

179.  The  scene  was  much  as  before.  Only  the  white 
man's  hand  dropped  on  the  automat.-butt. 

180.  "  Jesus-Maria!  "  his  lips  cracked.  "  Run  up  that 
flag!" 

181.  The  old  man  blinked  at  the  hand  poised  on  the 
bolstered  pistol.  His  eyes  flashed  obliquely  in  thin  gleam- 
ing lines  at  the  men  gathered  at  his  back. 

182.  They  were  riveted  by  the  spectacle.  Their  eyes, 
though  snapping,  were  fascinated  by  that  white  man  with 
death  in  his  hands  who  was  standing  all  alone  on  the  sput- 
tering bank.  One  rush,  and  they  could  sweep  him  into  the 
stream  ere  the  quick  death-dealing  firearm  dropped  more 
than  two.  But  not  one  took  the  lead.  ISTot  even  the  shifty- 
eyed  son.    The  lead  meant  sure  death. 

183.  Wake  lifted  the  pistol  from  the  holster. 

184.  The  old  man  slunk  over  to  the  base  of  the  tree 
and  his  hands  took  vibrating  hold  of  the  rope.  The  flam- 
ing symbol  crawled  up  foot  by  foot-fraction. 

185.  [His  hands,  of  a  sudden,  dropped,  as  if  palsied,  to 
his  sides.] ^  The  flag  flared,  half-way  up.  He  blinked  in 
wild  gleams  at  Wake. 

'  MS  :  Then,  on  the  sudden,  the  old  man's  hands  dropped  to  his  sides 
as  if  palsied.     The  flag 


602  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

ISG.  "  Scnor,"  he  cried,  "  for  the  love  of  Christ, 
seiior " 

187.  '^  Up !  "  Wake  snapped.  Ilis  eyes  glittered  along 
his  extended  arm. 

188.  The  flag  jerked  in  a  frenzied  dance  to  the  tuft. 
There  was  a  sharp  crack,  muffled  by  the  dead  air.  The 
old  man  pitched  outspread  on  his  face  in  the  clay  at  the 
base  of  the  tree.  A  convulsion  shook  the  shriveled  frame. 
The  second  shot  left  him  huddled  and  still.  A  trickle  of 
blood  oozed  from  a  pin-point  puncture  in  his  right  temple. 

189.  The  yellow  *  banner  dropped  with  its  own  weight 
and  hung  limp  in  the  heat,  half-way  down. 

190.  Wake  swung  the  still  smoking  weapon  on  the 
cluster  of  men. 

191.  "Frontol"  he  yelled.  "Quick!  Into  your 
huts !  " 

192.  They  scurried,  like  brown  lizards,  across  the  yel- 
low grass  and  out  of  sight,  save  for  their  peering  eyes. 

193.  I  glimpsed,  as  I  shot  back,  the  prone  huddled 
form  of  the  old  man  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  We  had  been 
within  an  ace  of  turning  the  bend,  when,  with  the  muffled 
crack,  I  had  seen  the  flag  drop  like  a  plummet  from  the 
tuft.  I  sensed  what  had  taken  place.  I  sprang  out,  ere 
we  beached,  and  grasped  Wake  by  the  hand.  I  shook 
hands  with  him. 

194.  "  You're  a  white  man,"  I  said. 

195.  The  deeply  tanned  skin  of  his  face  drew  to  the 
bursting-point  over  the  cheek-bones  in  a  weary  smile. 

196.  "  It's  fair  torment !  "  °  he  said  drearily. 


194.    The  thesis  of  white  supremacy  is  maintained  throughout 
the  story;  its  practical  utility  and  necessity  being  supported  by 

*  MS  :  The  saffron  banner  ^  MS  :  hell 


i 


Tropics  603 

V. 

197.  A  strange,  ominous  tattoo  far  off  down  the  sky 
aroused  Wake  from  staring  vacantly  after  us.  It  was  like 
the  roll  of  a  monstrous  drum.  He  looked  across  the  river 
and  over  the  tall  palm-tufts  of  the  dense  jungle  on  the 
other  bank,  beheld  a  black  mass  of  clouds  rolling  and 
tumbling  in  a  race  up  the  blazing  vault.  He  made  for  the 
hut.  A  tropical  storm  was  afoot  which  would  cleanse  the 
pestilence  from  the  land. 

198.  A  wisp  of  wind,  faint  and  velvety,  fanned  like  a 
tonic  through  his  parched  body.    As  he  swung  the  bamboo 

experience  wherever  the  whites  carry  civilization  among  backward 
colored  races,  to  conceive  a  story  involving  such  race  relationships 
is  practically  impossible,  with  truth  to  experience,  without  assum- 
ing this  thesis.  The  fact  that  our  author  expressly  emphasizes  it 
may  be  explained  by  another  fact.  In  this  "  epic  of  Wakeman's 
llife,"  the  recalling  of  Wakeman  to  the  white  man's  ideals  and 
characteristic  conduct  in  the  situation  unfolded  by  the  story, 
requires  some  exceeding  strong  human  motive  (e.g.,  race  pride), 
and  to  show  his  rehabilitation  requires  of  him  a  manifestation  of 
such  force  and  brutality  of  mastership;  the  ultimate  justice  or 
morality  of  it  are  not  involved  in  a  technical  criticism.  The  atti- 
tude and  conduct  of  Faulkner  and  Wakeman  could  not,  under  the 
conditions  assumed  for  this  story,  be  other  than  they  are  rejDre- 
sented  and  remain  true  to  the  prevailing  facts  of  experience;  see 
S.  S.  M.,  90 :  10-11.  Other  instances  of  the  decisiveness  and  force- 
fulness  that  accompany  this  mastery  have  been  noted;  but  see 
passim. 

196.  Reminds  us  that  the  romantic  element  of  Wakeman's  char- 
acter is  still  at  war  with  the  race  characteristics  and  traditions 
now  dominating  him. 

197.  The  final  movement  begins. — In  considering  the  reason  for 
introducing  the  storm  now  described,  we  must  remember  the  title 
of  the  story — "  Tropics."  One  of  the  purposes  that  gave  the 
story  birth  was,  to  make  us  realize  somewhat  the  aspects,  the 
nature,  and  thb  problems  of  the  tropics  (see  the  opening  and  the 
end   of  the   story).     In   one   sense,   therefore,    the   story   is   a 


604  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

door  to  and  shot  the  wooden  bolt,  the  second  breath  of 
wind,  a  swirling  gust,  smote  tho  harrio.  The  hut  shook 
to  its  clay  flooring,  the  bamboo  Avails  gave  pliantly,  and 
the  thatch  of  the  roof  lifted  plumb  into  the  air.  He  saw, 
between  the  spaces,  the  clouds  flocking  up  in  black  pha- 
lanxes. Flakes  of  tinder-rot,  fine  as  gem-dust,  spattered 
down  and  from  one,  on  the  cot,  a  furry  gray-black  taran- 
tula wriggled,  then  scampered  across  the  room  and  back 
up  the  wall. 

199.    Outside,  as  he  closed  the  window  aperture,  he  saw 
the  air  filled  with  'stecn-foot  leaves,  flayed  from  the  tufts 

panorama  or  spectacular  drama  of  the  tropical  canal  zone — a  fact 
that  accounts  for  the  unusually  large  proportion  of  intensifying 
matter  introduced. — Integration  (S.  S.  M.,  166:23)  has  been  ac- 
complished with  much  skill;  first,  by  making  Wakeman  the  cen- 
tral person  (with  Faulkner  serving  somewhat  as  a  foil),  and 
second,  by  weaving  together  a  succession  of  episodes  each  so  vivid 
or  intense  that  we  overlook  the  exti'eme  simplicity  and  scantiness 
of  plot  as  distinguished  from  developing  incident.  Examine  this 
further.    The  working-plot  is  this : 

1.  A  government  agent  finds  a  white  man  living  in  degrada- 
tion among  uncivilized  natives,  and  contrives  to  make  this  man 
assume  responsibility  for  the  welfare  of  his  village  while  a  pest 
is  raging. 

2.  The  man  obeys  his  old  ideals  and  enforces  his  race  standards 
of  civilization,  though  at  the  cost  of  a  terrible  struggle,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  tragically  slays  his  own  loved  wife ;  but  though 
he  prevails  in  the  immediate  struggle,  ultimately  the  tropics  pre- 
vail over  him,  and  he  perishes.  All  the  rest  is  developing,  ampli- 
fying, and  intensifying  incident  and  detail.  But  the  stors'  is  so 
managed  and  integrated  that  we  get  it  as  a  consistent  and  impres- 
sive whole,  in  which  are  further  brought  before  us  clearly: 
(1)  the  spiritual  struggle  in  Wakeman;  (2)  an  impressive 
panorama  of  tropical  conditions  and  environment;  (3)  the  differ- 
ence between  the  white  man  and  his  civilization  and  the  semi- 
barbarian  mongrel  of  the  tropics;  (4)  the  problems  of  command 
and  government  that  face  those  who  introduce  civilization  into 
the  jungle,  and  the  means  by  which  control  must  at  first  be  estab- 


Tropics  .  605 

and  hurtling  stem-on  for  the  hut,  sheer  dead  weights.  The 
lofty,  lithe  palms  were  tossing  tufts  to  and  fro,  and  twist- 
ing and  snapping  like  whip-cords,  and  bending  tense  as 
bows  to  earth.  He  could  hear  from  all  about  the  dull 
thudding  of  cocoanuts.  He  saw  that  the  oil  coat  of  the 
fretted  river  had  been  swept,  as  by  some  gigantic  hand,  to 
the  bank. 

200.  The  scorched  grass  of  the  roof,  with  a  metallic 
click,  settled  back.  A  gloom,  thick  and  sweltering  and 
breathless,  fell  ere  dusk  like  a  pall  over  the  land.  The 
world  stood  still,  waiting. 

201.  A  rap  resounded  from  the  roof.  Another  and 
another.  They  were  nodules  of  warm  moisture,  huge  and 
heavy  as  bullets.  Then  came  the  rain,  a  deluge,  a  flood — 
a  solid,  slanting  sheet  of  water  that  chuted  drops  like  peb- 
bles down  in  unbroken  streams.  The  river,  the  huts,  the 
tossing  jungle  were  blotted  out.  The  whole  globe  was  a 
leaden  slant  of  water. 


lished.  It  is  doubtful  that  any  other  story  in  the  present  col- 
lection, except  "  An  Epilogue,"  presented  so  intricate  and  trying 
a  task  of  integration;  for  the  simple  reason  that  this  story 
contains  so  gTeat  a  number  of  different  elements  and  details  re- 
quiring adjustment,  subordination,  emphasis,  and  consistent  com- 
bination one  with  another  and  all  with  one  another  to  serve 
the  many  subordinate  purposes  involved  in  the  main  purpose  of 
the  author. 

197-209.  The  episode  contains  (197-201)  the  description  of  the 
storm,  and  (202-209)  the  incident  of  the  suspicious  call.  Look 
over  the  other  episodes  of  the  story ;  how  many  of  them  consist  of 
a  similar  combination  of  description  (or  exposition)  and  action? 
S.  S.  M.,  80 :  3-7  and  152 :  2-5.  Note  that,  as  the  turbulence 
of  the  action  (inner  and  outer)  increases,  the  aspects  of  nature 
selected  as  accompaniments  also  grow  turbulent,  thus  con- 
tributing to  unity  of  setting,  mood,  and  tone ;  S.  S.  M.,  178-189, 
esp.  18G:13. — Here  and  in  the  following  passages,  point  out  all 
that  contributes  to  heightened  interest  (suspense — S.  S.  M.,  249). 


606  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

202.  Out  iu  the  tumult  of  elements  a  vague  form  de- 
tached itself  from  a  hut.  Bending  low  to  the  gummy 
ground  to  avoid  being  brained  by  a  winging  leaf,  he  made 
through  the  terrific  downpour  for  Wake's  hovel.  He  was 
the  son  of  the  dead  assistant. 

203.  A  baby  was  dying  of  the  fever  in  his  hut,  he  said. 
It  was  the  youngest  of  the  family  of  seven.  Would  the 
senor  come  ? 

204.  The  white  man  searched  the  deeps  of  the  shifting 
eyes  of  the  saturated  figure  before  him.  He  suspected 
treachery.  Treachery  he  feared.  It  would  be  like  their 
mongrel  blood  on  a  night  like  that — the  subtile  craftiness 
of  the  Spanish,  the  deadly  rancor  of  the  Indian,  the  bloody 
ferocity  of  the  negro  in  them.  His  chin  bit  forward.  He 
would  go.  He  buckled  on  belt  and  holster.  He  reached 
for  his  Stetson. 

205.  His  wife  glided  softly  to  him  and  laid  a  gently 
restraining  hand  on  his  arm.  She  was  afraid.  She 
wanted  him  with  her  that  raging  night.  She  was  womanly- 
weak.  Also,  there  was  a  terrifying  dizziness  in  her  head 
and  her  ears  were  buzzing  as  with  the  drone  of  a  multi- 
tude of  mosquitoes.  She  attributed  it  to  an  overdose  of 
quinin.  Secretly,  she  feared  worse.  But  all  she  said 
was: 

206.  "  Don't  go,  caro  mio." 

207.  He  smiled  down  at  her  cooing  mouth,  into  her 
liquid  black  eyes.  He  lifted  her  dimpled  brown  baby- 
hand  from  his  sleeve.  He  shook  his  head  at  her  as  at  a 
naughty  child. 

208.  "  ISTo,  no,  chiquita.     I  must." 

209.  She  moved  back.  She  watched  him,  love  and 
helplessness  moist  in  her  swimming  eyes. 


i 


Tropics  607 

210.  He  stepped  with  the  native  out  into  the  gloomy 
cataract  of  waters.  The  man  led,  stooping  far  forward 
over  the  silt.  Wake  took  firm  hold  with  left  hand  of  the 
dripping  end  of  the  other's  camisa.  He  would  not  risk 
losing  his  guide  in  that  storm.  In  his  right  hand  was  the 
automat,  loaded  and  ready  for  quick  work. 

211.  A  vague  shadow  followed  them  through  the  ob- 
scuring sheet.  It  was  Wake's  golden  wife.  A  double  fear 
was  at  her  throat — fear  for  his  safety  and  nameless  fear 
of  that  whirling  in  her  head. 

212.  They  knew  it  not.  They  could  not  see  her  through 
the  solid  dusk  and  streams,  nor  she  them. 

213.  The  report  proved  true.  The  poor  little  baby 
was  shriveled  horribly  with  the  fever.  Wake,  wet  as  he 
was  through  and  through,  did  what  he  could.  He  in- 
structed them,  if  it  lived,  to  bring  it  to  the  sick-ward  in 
the  morning.  He  could  not  part  it  on  that  night  from  its 
wailing  mother.  He  penetrated  once  more  into  the  hurly- 
burly  of  elements. 

214.  Once  back  in  the  hut,  he  missed  his  wife.  Fear  ^ 
crept  into  his  skull  and  coiled  tight  around  his  chilled 

211.  See  33,  58,  74,  and  note  the  author's  practice  of  recalling 
to  our  mind  at  intervals  significant  facts  by  such  brief  items  of 
naiTation.  Pars.  211  and  215  contain  the  first  hints  of  the 
approaching  end.  We  shall  soon  discover  that  development  of 
the  struggle  came  to  an  end  in  172-196,  and  the  decisive  moment 
— Wakeman's  conclusive  act  of  mastery  as  the  agent  of  civiliza- 
tion— was  that  in  which  he  administered  justice  on  the  traitor 
Jesus-Maria  (emphasized  by  193-194).  For  artistic  purposes, 
his  redemption  is  now  accomplished  and  his  work  established, 
for  he  has  shown  himself  a  white  man  and  "  seared  the  mastery 
of  the  white  on  their  dark  souls."  The  falling  action  therefore 
begins  at  197,  with  the  storm  as  its  setting — a  prelude  to  the 
catastrophe — and  the  present  episode  is  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

'  MS  :  Fear  snailed  into 


G08  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

brains.  Fear  for  bcr.  Fear  for  her  life  in  that  avalanche 
of  niiij;hty  forces  outside.  Fear  of  the  mongrel  men  and 
their  hideous  forms  of  treachery,  of  torture. 

215.  lie  pulled  his  Stetson  down  over  his  eyes  to 
emerge  in  search  into  the  inky  tempest  once  again.  As 
he  did,  he  shuddered  in  every  nerve-center  from  head  to 
foot.  It  was  a  shivering- fit.  It  presaged  the  fever.  He 
sank  with  a  groan  back  *  upon  the  cot.  "  My  Heaven !  "  ^ 
he  said.     "  Have  I  got  it  ?  " 

216.  He  swallowed  grain  after  grain  of  quinin.  He 
rose  from  the  cot  to  leave.  It  was  a  struggle.  A  hot  wave 
seemed  to  singe  every  tissue  and  fiber  of  his  frame.  Fol- 
lowed an  icy  chill.  His  brains  giddied  round,  from  the 
fever  and  the  drug,  as  if  ®  the  forces  catapulting  outside 
were  whirling  them  in  the  brain-pan  of  his  head. 

217.  He  took  a  determined  step  toward  the  door.  As 
he  did,  he  lost  all  sense  of  balance.  He  pitched  back  full- 
length  upon  the  cot.  The  automat,  dropped  from  his  limp 
fingers  and  thudded  to  the  couch  beside  him.  The  while 
the  rain  hurtled  down  with  great  brooding  patience,  drown- 
ing jungle  and  clearing  and  thundering  upon  the  roof  of 
the  hut,  he  lay  beneath  in  a  state  of  lethargy,  burning  and 
icing  by  turns. 

218.  He  roused  from  the  torpor,  how  many  hours  later 


218.  The  climactic  height  of  the  story.  RecalHng  Wakeman's 
love  for  his  jungle  wife — the  deeper  for  his  romantic  tempera- 
ment— and  his  weakened  character,  we  can  feel  how  great  the 
catastrophe  is  in  his  life.  From  this  we  realize  the  preparatory 
function  of  the  passages  we  have  noted  earlier,  indicating  this  love 
between  the  two. 

*  MS  :  sank  back,  with  a  groan,  upon 
5  MS  :  God 

•  MS  :  as  though 


Teopics  609 

he  knew  not.  His  brains  ran  sluggishly  with  feverish 
drowsiness.  Yet  a  sense  of  danger  weighed  on  his  soul 
like  the  leaden  fever  on  his  body.  All  about  him  it  was 
black — thick,  inky  black.  The  night  boomed  like  a  huge 
gong  with  the  stupendous  downpour.  His  pulse,  with  sud- 
den fear,  gushed  like  mighty  combers  in  his  ears.  A  pro- 
longed dull  scrunch-scrunch  from  the  clay  floor,  quite  dis- 
tinct against  the  monotonous  pour  of  the  rain,  was  the 
cause.  It  sounded  as  if  something  was  pulling  itself  with 
weary  effort  toward  him. 

219.  Terrible  horror  iced  every  nerve  of  him.  It  was 
like  the  chill  clutch  of  paralysis.  He  could  not  move. 
Only  his  dizzy  brains  could  move.  They  ^  flashed  and 
flared  with  thoughts  of  natives,  of  machetes,  of  mutterings 
and  eyes,  furtive  and  malignant.    They  had  come  for  him. 

220.  A  rasping  hiccup,  hiccup,  like  someone  retching 
or  sobbing,  shattered  the  vise-grip  of  horror.  Madly  he 
shouted.  He  sat  bolt  upright  in  the  dark.  His  fingers 
closed  over  the  butt  of  the  automat. 

221.  He  sensed  the  outline  of  a  vague  form  on  the  floor. 
It  was  blacker  than  the  dark.     It  was  crouched. 

222.  A  pencil  of  flame  spat  out.  A  sharp,  cruel  crack 
and  two  screams  burst  the  membrane  of  his  ears.  One 
was  awful.  It  was  his  own.  The  fiber  of  bullet-light  had 
shown  him  his  mistake.  Ghastly  mistake.  Irretrievable. 
He  had  killed  the  thing  he  loved. 

223.  *  The  sun,  heavy  and  swollen,  rose  in  a  dye-blue 


223-237.  The  closing  episode.  Note  the  effect  of  desolation — 
physical,  in  the  storm-wracked,  abandoned  huts;  spiritual,  in 
Wakeman's  loss  of  the  one  human  tie  he  had  on  earth. 

*  MS  :  His   dizzy   brains    flashed 

*  The  chapter  number  VI  is  here  given  in  the  MS. 


(310  Today's  Siioet  Stoeies  Analyzed 

sky.  The  rain  had  ceased  abruptly  as  it  had  started.  The 
feverish  rays  were  «^iieking  up  the  water  that  had  cas- 
caded through  the  iiight.^ 

224.  I  saw  that  the  lofty  signal-palm  had  withstood  the 
squall.  Its  stripped  scanty  tuft  bobbed  in  the  middle  of  the 
shimmering  mist.  As  I  looked  for  it,  I  saw  the  yellow  flag 
zig-zag  to  the  top."  I  launched  the  cayuca  and  with  my 
two  cargadores  coursed  beneath  the  thick,  dripping  arcade 
up  the  ^  yellow  stream  to  Wake. 

225.  We  rounded  the  jagged  spur  and  beached  far  in 
on  the  bank — a  bloody  cesspool  of  mud  deeply  furrowed 
with  drains  that  ran  yellow.  But  despite  the  flag  drag- 
gling overhead,  no  body  lay  outstretched  in  the  silt.  No 
sign  of  life  was  visible.  The  barrio  was  dead.  It  lay  like 
a  great  drab  steaming  caldron  before  us.  The  roof  of 
one  hut  hung  off  an  edge,  the  bamboo  door  of  another  had 
fallen  outward.  About,  the  flayed  palms  drip-dripped 
liquid  ooze  upon  the  black-green  undergrowth.  Otherwise, 
nothing  stirred  in  the  humid  stillness.  It  was  depressing. 
Unbearable.    I  shouted. 

226.  K^ot  a  peering  eye  showed  from  the  dead  huts.  I 
set  one  of  the  cargadores  to  searching  the  village  for  the 
natives.  With  the  other,  I  made  across  the  spongy  ground 
and  disheveled  grass  for  Wake's  hovel.  Again  I  shouted. 
I  saw  that  the  door  of  it  was  closed. 

227.  As  we  drew  near,  suddenly  it  snapped  open. 
Out  into  the  mist-cloaked  sunlight,  in  his  arms  the  mud- 
died form  of  the  jungle  woman,  strode  Wakeman.  His 
brown    eyes   were    deep-sunken.      The    high    cheek-bones 

"  MS :  night,  to  hoard  it  up  for  days  and  weeks,  then  belch  it  down 
again. 

«  MS :  top.  The  huge  leaf  over  which  the  rope  had  been  noosed  had 
remained   intact.      I   launched 

'  MS  :  the  bloated  yellow  stream 


I 


Tkopics  611 

seemed    bursting    through    the     saffron    parchment    of 
skin. 

228.  He  waved  us  aside.  He  splashed  through  the 
mire  and  tenderly  laid  his  dead  in  the  bottom  of  the 
cayuca.  He  strode  over  to  the  signal-palm  and  with  one 
jerk  shot  the  flag  down  to  the  notch. 

229.  The  cargador  who  had  been  ransacking  the  huts 
floundered  through  the  mud  and  grass,  a  withered  baby's 
corpse  in  his  arms.  The  pitiful  little  body  was  all  that 
was  left  of  the  natives  in  the  harrio.  They  had  taken  to 
the  dripping  jungle.  I  placed  the  shriveled  form  beside 
the  golden  woman's. 

230.  I  started  with  Wake  to  finish  the  rounds  of  the 
hovels.  I  said  not  a  word  to  him,  nor  he  to  me.  The 
cargadores  I  had  sent  with  the  dead  down  the  river  to  the 
burying-ground.  As  we  flung  our  legs  wide  apart  through 
the  water-soaked  ground,  I  saw  Wake  reel  and  citcli  him- 
self. I  looked  at  him.  His  lips  were  drawn  tight  to  the 
cracking  point  over  his  teeth. 

231.  ''  I  killed  her,"  he  said  abruptly,  as  he  felt  my 
eyes  upon  him. 

232.  I  nodded.  I  could  fathom  the  rest.  I  did  not 
want  him  to  tell  me.  I  wanted  him  to  forget.  I  thought 
it  was  for  the  best  that  she  was  dead.  N'ow  nothing 
bound  him  to  his  old  life.     He  was  a  white  man. 

233.  I  made  into  a  dark  hut.  Inside,  I  turned  expect- 
ing to  find  Wake  at  my  heels.  He  was  clutching  the  jamb 
of  the  door.    Even  as  I  looked,  he  pulled  himself  up.     He 


229.  "  Golden  woman."  Gradually  the  name  has  passed  over 
from  a  description  of  the  outer  to  a  description  of  the  inner  per- 
son. What  is  gained  by  thus  idealizing  Wakeman's  jungle  mate 
on  the  spiritual  side? 


G12  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

turned  from  inc.     lie  staggered  through  the  mire  toward 
the  signal-pabn. 

234.  I  was  out  of  the  hut  and  after  him.     The  flag  was 
part  way  up  ere  I  gripped  his  arm. 

235.  "  Wake,"  I  said,  "  we  have  no  dead." 

236     "  We  soon  will  have,"  said  he.     In  his  voice,  for 
the  first  time,  Avas  a  certain  note  of  satisfaction.^ 

237.  That  night,  Wakeman  went  with  his  dead. 

238.  The  cigarettes  were  pasted  dead  on  our  lips.    The 
ghost-lights  were  winking  out  in  the  velvety  dark. 

239.  "  That's  the  epic  of  Wakeman's  life,"  said  Faulk- 


236.  A  touch  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  stoic  fatalism  and  at  the 
same  time  of  that  deep  and  intense  romanticism  that  is  also  an  ele- 
ment of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character — therefore  a  final  touch  of 
race  characterization  as  well  as  of  chai'acterization  of  the  man 
himself.  S.  S.  M.,  208 :  2,  (211 :  4) .  (Query  :  whether  Wakeman 
offers  enough  appealing  individual  traits  to  gain  our  strong  sym- 
pathy, or  lacks  these  enough  to  be  somewhat  a  puppet-person? 
Consider  the  details  edited  out  of  the  original  MS.,  to  be  found 
here  in  the  footnotes.) 

238-239.  The  distinct  ending;  it  is  philosophical  in  content. 
Both  paragraphs  are  in  the  mood  of  the  falhng  action — 238  con- 
veying through  objective  details  the  impression  left  on  the  group 
who  had  been  hearing  the  story;  239  striking,  as  if  it  were  one 
complex  chord  in  music,  the  dominant  notes  that  made  the  theme 
of  the  composition. — Taking  the  author's  division  of  his  story  into 
parts,  as  indicated  by  his  lettering,  we  have:  Part  (I)  correspond- 
ing to  "  the  stirring  dawn  and  the  listless  indolence  of  the 
meridian";  here  mentioned;  (II),  (III),  and  (IV)  corresponding 
to  "the  brief  exhilaration  of  eventide";  (V)  corresponding  to 
"  night,  black,  breathing,  elemental."  Evidently,  therefore,  he 
did  not  mean  these  lettered  divisions  to  correspond  closely  with 
the  summary  given  in  this  last  paragraph. — Note  that  the  keynote 
struck  in  par.  1  is  echoed  in  par.  239.  If  among  all  the  notes 
struck  in  between,  in  the  story,  there  are  any  that  do  not  har- 

«  MS  :  He  had  it.     That  night  Wakeman 


Tropics  613 

ner.  "  It's  like  the  tropics.  Stirring  dawn,  the  listless 
indolence  of  meridian,  the  brief  exhilaration  of  eventide, 
and  then  night,  black,  breathing,  elemental — full  of  the 
nameless.  It  fills  me  with  awe,  that  story.  Just  like  the 
tropics.    It  is  incomprehensible,  profound,  utter." 


monize  with  these,  I  have  overlooked  them.  But  though  for 
atmosphere  and  local  color  the  story  has  never  lost  its  appeal 
to  me,  I  could  wish  that  Wakeman  as  a  person  seemed  less  a 
puppet  and  thrilled  me  a  little  more  as  a  human  being;  see  n. 
239.  Comparison  of  the  variant  readings  with  the  printed  ver- 
sion, however,  will  show  that  some  effectively  humanizing  details 
concerning  Wakeman  have  been  lost. 


UNTO  EACH  HIS  CEOWN 

The  Story  as  a  Whole 

1.  A  theme-story,  strongly  reinforced  with  atmosphere 
(subjective  coloring),  and  notably  simple  and  clear  in  its 
expression.  It  can  be  profitably  studied  as  an  example  of 
restraint  and  simplicity  in  treatment  (S.  S.  M.,  67:18; 
p.  253  How  can;  and  index,  Economy). 

2.  In  structural  conception  it  is  a  conte  that  presents 
the  climactic  height  and  outcome  only;  see  S.  S.  M.,  pp. 
15-18;  74:  6  B,  C,  D;  168:  25-27.  The  beginning  of 
the  action  and  the  rising  action  lie  in  the  past,  in  the 
mental  and  spiritual  struggle  of  the  young  soldier  to  com- 
prehend the  conflict  between  war  and  the  ideals  of  human- 
ized man.  His  being  wounded  is  merely  one  of  the  de- 
veloping incidents  of  this  plot  of  spiritual  action,  bringing 
on  the  climactic  moment  of  death  and  conclusive  compre- 
hension (or  vision).  All  these  matters  are  sufficiently  in- 
dicated in  the  exposition  distributed  through  the  story. 
The  narrative  itself  centers  in  this  climactic  moment  of 
clarified  vision  of  consummated  sacrifice. 

3.  This  story  affords  a  good  study-example  of  emo- 
tional appeal ;  see  S.  S.  M.,  63  :14.  On  atmosphere,  see 
S.  S.  M.,  pp.  56-58  and  passim. 

4.  The  narrative  is  also  a  helpful  example  of  psycho- 
logical narration  (S.  S.  M.,  50:15;  228:15)  objectively 
achieved. 

5.  Finally,  the  story  is  another  illustration  of  the 
power  of  the  conte  to  interpret  life  from  fundamental 
view-points.  See  S.  S.  M.,  pp.  194-198 ;  179  :  3 ;  pp.  1-3 ; 
4:9;  5:11. 

614 


UNTO  EACH  HIS  CROWN  ^ 

By  Norma  Patterson 

Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Author  and  the  Editors  from  "The 

Bookman"    (New  York)    for  May,   1918. 

Copyrighted,  1918,  by  the  George  H.  Doran  Company. 

1.  For  a  long  time  after  he  opened  his  eyes  he  lay 
quite  still  looking  at  the  wall,  which  was  where  his  glance 
happened  to  hit.  A  luxury  of  comfort  possessed  his  body 
and  mind — a  light,  serene,  smoothly-running  happiness 
which  was  like  spinning  evenly  through  cool,  green,  white- 
flecked  waters,  after  kicking  and  strangling  and  puffing 
in  learning  to  swim.  So  for  a  time  that  might  have  been 
short  and  might  have  been  long,  he  lay  without  moving, 
his  mind  going  neither  backward  nor  forward,  but  rest- 
ing contentedly  on  the  strangely  happy  present. 

2.  Across  the  wall  a  shadow  moved,  and  paused,  and 
passed  on,  ducking  and  bobbing  as  it  went.  He  knew 
that  the  nurse  was  moving  about,  and  the  shadow — 
absurdly  undignified — was  made  by  the  flimsy  unstable 
sputter  of  a  candle.  Again  it  passed,  and  again.  At  first 
the  edges  were  sharply  cut  and  individualistic,  but  now  he 
saw  them  blur  and  fade  against  the  drab  wall.  The  image 
was  slipping  back  into  the  vastness  of  unlimited  shadow, 
from  which,  for  the  sputtering  length  of  a  candle,  it  had 
snatched  itself. 

1  This  story  is  one  of  three  under  the  title  "  War  Echoes,"  edited 
by  Edward  J.  O'Brien,  and  published  in  "The  Bookman,"  for  May, 
1918. 

615 


GIG  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

3.  Gray  light  crept  in  through  the  little  window  above 
his  cot.  The  slender,  far-reaching  notes  of  a  bugle  called 
to  the  coming  day. 

4.  His  body  did  not  move,  but  his  spirit  stood  upright 
at  the  summons.  The  sound  had  jerked  open  the  door  of 
memory. 

5.  His  regiment!  Would  he  be  able  to  go  back — and 
fight  with  the  boys?  It  had  been  hard,  having  to  leave 
them  when  he  did.  They  were  out  of  the  trenches  and 
charging.  It  was  just  at  the  apex  of  the  attack — the  mo- 
ment for  which  his  whole  life  seemed  to  have  been  lived. 
All  the  training,  all  the  hardship),  all  the  parting  with 
loved  ones,  all  the  long,  tedious  life  in  the  trenches — had 
led  to  this  one  supreme  moment.  And  then,  just  as  they 
plunged  forward  into  the  shout  and  ring  of  victory,  some- 
thing had  happened.  He  was  not  sure  at  first  what,  ex- 
cept that  it  halted  him,  spun  him  round,  and  he  felt  him- 
self sinking  downward — downward — and  the  others 
charging  on,  leaving  him  there.  He  was  going  to  miss  it ! 
He  would  not  be  in  at  the  victory !  Later,  when  they 
told  of  it  around  the  camp  at  night,  he  would  have  no 
part  in  the  telling. 

6.  He  saw  Trav  Barnes  look  back,  and  he  saw  the  ex- 
pression that  came  on  Trav's  face.  An  expression  that 
could  not  be  put  into  words  or  even  imagined  unless  one 
had  seen  it.  Trav  stopped  abruptly,  but  he  had  waved 
Trav  on,  and  Trav  had  gone — running  forward  as  if  he 
were  running  away  from  looking  back.  And  the  tramp 
of  the  feet  had  grow^n  fainter  .  .  .  and  the  sound  of 
the  shouting  fainter  .  .  .  and  the  boom  of  the  battle 
fainter.    .    .    . 

7.  Yes,  he  must  be  getting  back  to  the  regiment.     He 


Unto  Each  His  Ckown  617 

could  not  be  wounded  so  badlj — he  was  blissfully  free 
from  pain. 

8.  He  turned  his  head  slowly.  The  candle  had 
burned  down  to  a  feeble,  spasmodic  flame.  In  the  light 
from  the  window  he  made  out  the  nurse  and  the  doctor, 
talking  together.  He  was  a  bit  afraid  of  what  they  would 
tell  him,  and  so  he  hesitated  to  put  his  question.  Then  he 
got  in  behind  his  courage  and  gave  it  a  great  boost. 

9.  "  Will  I  be  able  to  rejoin  the  regiment — soon  ?  " 

10.  The  words  dropped,  one  at  a  time,  into  the  silence 
with  halting,  staccato  emphaticness,  and  seemed  to  stand 
in  the  air  just  where  he  placed  them,  in  an  inquisitive 
little  row. 

11.  The  doctor  and  the  nurse  turned  and  gazed  at 
them.  The  doctor  moved  forward  and  sat  down  on  the 
bed.  He  had  thought  at  first  that  it  was  an  army  surgeon, 
but  he  saw  now  it  was  the  Old  Doctor  from  his  home 
town. 

12.  "  Yes,"  nodded  the  Old  Doctor,  "  soon — you  will 
be  joining  your  regiment." 

13.  He  was  so  overwhelmed  with  joy  at  this  that  he 
was  not  surprised  when  the  strange  thing  happened.  War 
had  leveled  all  shocks.  There  was  left  no  possibility  of 
further  high  emotion  to  one  who  had  had  to  grow  used 
to  standing,  now  with  friends,  and — now — among  the 
dead. 

14.  And  so  he  felt  only  very  glad  and  very  thankful 
to  see,  here  in  an  alien  country,  all  his  dear  family  step 
quietly  into  the  span  of  light  about  his  head,  and  stand 
smiling  down  at  him.  He  counted  heads  carefully  twice 
and  found  that  not  one  was  missing. 

15.  There   were   his   father   and   mother,   their   arms 


618  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

about  each  other ;  and  Becky,  his  schoolgirl  sister,  fresh 
from  the  world  of  basket-ball  and  laughter;  there  was 
John,  his  older  brother,  who  had  had  to  stay  behind.  He 
recalled  how  John  had  shadowed  him  during  that  last 
month  at  home;  with  what  brooding  absorption  John  had 
inspected  his  kit,  and  his  rifle,  and  every  part  of  the  khaki 
uniform,  and  had  said,  a  little  bitterly,  as  he  grasped  his 
hand  at  the  last,  "  It's  the  great  adventure.  Kid.  Lord, 
how  I  envy  you."  And  there  was  The  Girl  her  beautiful 
eyes  wide,  her  lips  parted,  her  hand  reaching  out  toward 
him. 

16.  It  must  be  some  special  occasion  to  bring  them 
here.     He  wondered  what. 

17.  He  remembered  the  same  little  group  standing  on 
the  platform  to  bid  him  good-by  when  he  went  to  college. 
They  were  grieved  at  the  parting,  but  they  were  proud. 
They  had  smiled  and  smiled  through  their  tears.  He  had 
worn  a  new  suit  that  day — a  rather  natty  affair  he 
thought — and  his  mother  had  slipped  some  cookies  in  his 
new  pocket.  He  was  half  ashamed  of  her  doing  it,  as  if 
he  were  still  a  kid  and  liked  cookies.  But  later,  in  the 
train,  behind  a  newspaper,  how  good  the  cookies  had 
tasted ! 

18.  And  when  he  sailed  for  France  the  same  group 
had  gathered  again  to  see  him  off.  They  had  stood  in  the 
sweltering  sun  all  one  morning  just  for  a  chance  to  wave 
as  the  big  boat  slipped  down  the  harbor.  They  had  smiled 
and  smiled  through  their  tears.  They  were  here  now, 
smiling  at  him  through  their  tears,  and — he  had  the  vague 
feeling — seeing  him  off  somewhere.  There  was  grief  on 
their  faces — but  they  were  proud !  It  was  fine  of  them  to 
come. 


Unto  Each  His  Ckown"  619 

19.  It  did  not  seem  at  all  queer  when  a  head  vanished 
from  among  those  about  him,  and  then  another,  and 
another.  They  did  not  hop  off  or  bounce  away,  but  glided 
vaporously  from  sight  in  a  perfectly  logical  manner ;  until 
all  the  heads  were  gone  except  his  mother's  and  his 
father's,  leaning  close  together,  their  eyes  on  his,  smiling 
still — smiling  their  love.  It  was  like  a  picture  he  had  of 
them  that  sat  in  an  ivory  frame  on  his  table  back  home. 
And  when  these  two  had  gone  there  was  only  the  touch  of 
the  Old  Doctor's  hand,  resting  reassuringly  over  his. 

20.  The  gTay  mist  of  morning  closed  in  about  him  like 
a  cloud,  and  it  seemed  to  be  carrying  him  along  with  it. 
.  .  .  He  lost  the  touch  of  the  Old  Doctor's  hand — and 
with  it  the  heaviness  of  his  body — of  his  mind.  And  he 
perceived  now  that  he  was  standing  on  a  hill  in  the  first 
strange  light  of  a  new  day. 

21.  Behind  him,  out  of  the  foggy  distance,  he  caught 
the  thin  wavering  outline  of  a  bugle-call  .  .  .  and  the 
shadowy  tramp,  tramp,  of  feet.  .  .  .  He  looked  back, 
and  saw  them  coming.  A  vast  moving  army — marching 
toward  him,  coming  along  with  him.  As  far  back  as  he 
could  see  they  were  coming. 

22.  They  were  a  strange  company — a  litle  torn,  thor- 
oughly ragged.  Many  of  them  were  just  boys  like  him- 
self. Caps  and  coats  were  missing,  and — they  carried  no 
weapons!  And  as  much  as  they  had  loved  and  honored 
the  uniforms  they  wore,  he  saw  that  the  uniform  no  longer 
mattered. 

23.  He  had  thought,  when  they  came  into  sight,  that 
it  was  his  old  regiment.  Many,  many  of  them  were  here. 
But  as  they  drew  nearer  he  recognized  French  and  Eng- 
lish and  Italians  and — could  it  be? — Germans.     He  was 


620  Today's  Short  Stories  Analyzed 

a  little  shocked  to  see  how  his  comrades  hailed  these  as 
comrade,  and  that  their  journey  lay  together. 

24.  On  they  came.  The  music  grew  louder,  the 
tramping  heavier.  Here  and  there  were  friends — boys 
from  his  home  town.  Why,  there  was  Trav!  With  a 
shout  he  stumbled  forward ;  the  friends  grasped  hands, 
and  he  swung  into  step. 

25.  There  was  a  lightness  about  the  marching  of  this 
radiant  army  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  feet  or  bodies, 
but  seemed  to  come  from  what  they  saw  forward.  Their 
heads  were. thrown  back,  their  faces  shone.  It  was  as  if 
to  each,  no  matter  what  the  nationality,  victory  had  come. 

26.  During  the  long,  muddy  hours  of  waiting  before 
the  battle,  there  had  been  moments  of  troubled  thought — 
thought  of  what  was  right  and  what  was  wrong.  The 
grim  Why  and  Whither  of  War  had  stalked  with  clanking 
steel  up  and  down  the  trenches,  among  the  fallen  bodies. 
Beneath  the  rain  of  shells  one  thought  of  peace  as  some- 
thing that  would  come  some  day — that  must  come — but 
it  was  impossible  to  conceive  any  connection  between  that 
unthinkable  time  and  this  hideous  carnage. 

27.  But  as  he  looked  into  the  faces  of  these  he  saw 
what  that  shining  look  was.  It  came  to  him  as  a  sweep- 
ing revelation.  They  understood !  For  them  the  veil  was 
lifted — and  they  saw  peace! 

28.  They  had  passed  up  through  the  Gate  of  the  Ulti- 
mate Sacrifice — into  immortality.  They  had  laid  down 
their  lives  for  love  of  country,  and  the  reward  was  peace 
for  the  world.  Not  just  the  ceasement  of  war,  but  that 
perpetual  peace  born  of  universal  brotherhood. 

29.  Then — this  was  the  victory!  And  he  was  in! 
He  was  in  at  the  victory ! 


pi  I 


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